In Any Other World
by Navy Babe
Summary: Christine and Erik are happily engaged when the Vicomte waltzes into their lives and threatens their happy ending.  Will they be able to exorcise the Opera Ghost once and for all? An AU interpretation of the movie.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera and all related characters do not belong to me. I'm merely playing with the familiar characters, I promise to put them back when I'm done!

Notes: Ever wonder why Christine was clearly getting ready for bed after Raoul told her that they were going to dinner in the movie? Well...I did. And this is what became of that train of thought. I'll probably end up updating once a week, as this is still a work in progress. This will eventually be an "M" rating, but for now I'm keeping it at "T". A short chapter to get things started, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph_!" Christine rolled her eyes as the impressive voice thundered within her dressing room, as if coming from everywhere at once.

"Erik, will your love of theatrics ever cease?" she inquired as she tightened the belt on her dressing gown and waited patiently in front of the mirror. As expected, it slid open soundlessly, revealing a well dressed masked man. He stepped inside and shrugged as she laughed and embraced him.

"_Fool_ echoes particularly well in your room, my dear. I couldn't help myself." She shook her head and took his hand as he led her through the mirror, although the fact that his gaze lingered on the bouquet of roses that Raoul had given her didn't escape her notice.

The descent to Erik's home was quiet, as it usually was. She had been coming down to the cellars for almost a year now to visit her so-called Angel of Music, and she still loved the trek. It was as if she could leave all her problems in the world above and descend into a world where all that existed was music. Music and Erik. But Christine could tell that Erik's silence was not a comfortable one, his entire body radiated tension. But she didn't bring it up until they were gliding across the lake.

Dragging her fingers lightly through the water, she finally spoke up. "What is it, Erik? Tonight should be a happy occasion and yet I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head." She turned so that she could face him and looked up expectantly.

His mouth opened a closed a few times, as he prepared what to say. With a sigh of resignation, he spoke and she knew that whatever he was about to say wasn't truly what was troubling him. "I just wish that I could have truly been there tonight. It's bad enough that I couldn't even watch from Box Five as I normally would, but...I wish that I could take the joy that I deserve in your triumph. It is selfish of me, Christine."

She smiled softly at him and shook her head. "No it isn't, Erik. You want recognition. Anyone would. I just don't see why you can't have it. Erik, if people heard your music, knew your genius, your mask wouldn't matter. It'd be...an allure. Make you mysterious. You'd be a sensation, my love."

He shook his head sadly, as she knew he would. They'd had this conversation before, many times. "Your optimism is one of the reasons I love you, Christine. But I cannot..." he trailed off and Christine thought of the scars that riddled his body, proof of how kind the human race had been towards him. He hadn't meant to let her see those despite the fact she could feel them whenever they made love. He always insisted they do so in complete darkness; but she had accidentally walked in on him one night while he was bathing and had seen the various marks that criss-crossed over his chest and back. She had brushed her fingers along them, kissed some of them even, and she had seen his hand hover above his mask for a split second before moving away. If only Erik could trust her as she trusted him. "I cannot feel the same. Perhaps...someday."

She smiled up at him and nodded, this was the first time that he had expressed some semblance of hope for the future, in a facet of his life that didn't exclusively include her. She wanted to tell him how proud she was of him, but knew that it would only embarrass him. Besides, she knew that something else was still weighing heavily on his mind. In his own time, he would tell her.

The boat bumped against the small makeshift dock and Erik quickly hopped out, helping her out. She turned towards his home, a smile upon her face, eager to start celebrating the night with her fiancé.

"I am a jealous man, Christine," Erik said, unexpectedly and Christine could tell from his tone of voice that this was what had actually been bothering him since he came to collect her from her dressing room. Of course, how could she have been so blind?

She chuckled slightly and turned to him, watching as he tied up the boat. "Yes. Anthony the stagehand learned that lesson the hard way, didn't he?"

A pained expression came across the visible half of his face and Christine couldn't suppress the smirk on her features. "I told you, Christine that had nothing to do with me, it was an accident!"

"Yes of course, an accident that happened to break the hand that had accidentally grazed my bottom during practice..." she taunted, loving to see Erik flustered. But he looked genuinely distraught and she quickly sobered, schooling her face into a more somber expression. "I'm sorry, Erik. I know it wasn't you. Now tell me why you're jealous so that I can dispel these silly notions."

She grabbed his hand as they walked deeper into the caverns of his home, into what he used as his sitting room. Pulling him down on the couch next to her, she patiently waited as he fidgeted slightly, not yet meeting her gaze. "I love to hear you talk about your childhood. You know that." She nodded her encouragement and he continued. "But whenever you would mention Raoul...you'd get this look in your eyes. And I thought myself lucky that I would never have to deal with him, but then he showed up tonight and that look in your eyes showed up as well..." He turned his eyes to her and she gasped at the anguish in them. She immediately grabbed both his hands, attempting to comfort him. "The look in your eyes...reminds me of what I see when you look at me, Christine."

"Oh Erik," she cooed, scooting closer to him and releasing one of his hands so that she could cup his cheek. "It is a similar look, Erik, because I do care for Raoul. But only as a friend. I am promised to you. You alone. And that is how I like it. Raoul will never inspire in my heart what you do, my Angel. There is no need to be jealous. Raoul de Chagny is a friend. Erik Durand is my fiancé, and nothing will change that." She leaned close to kiss him, though it was awkward with the mask in the way, as it always was. "I love you, Erik," she told him fiercely as they broke apart. "Never forget that."

"Truly?" he whispered, and if he were any other man, Christine would have rolled her eyes and refused to answer. But she had learned long ago that while Erik may have enough bravado for the entire country of France, when it came to matters of the heart he was still just a scared little boy.

"Truly, Erik." She lifted her left hand so that it was in both of their lines of vision. The simple gold band that she wore as to not cause suspicion gleamed in the dim light of Erik's home. "This ring on my hand represents my promise to you. I shall never take it off. You are to be my husband and I love you almost more than my heart can bear." She leaned in again, brushing her lips to his in reassurance.

Her mood shifted when they broke apart and she draped herself across the couch seductively, placing her feet in his lap. She was determined to get his mind off of his jealousy. "Now, shouldn't we celebrate properly? You sculpted all this, Erik. Tonight was as much your triumph as it was mine." A wicked gleam appeared in her eye, one that was quickly matched by him.

Picking up one of her feet, he slipped off the slipper she wore and placed a gentle kiss on her ankle, before performing the same action on her other foot. He then shifted himself so that he was lying on top of her, perfectly positioned between her thighs. "I don't think that I'm responsible for these," he murmured, trailing his hands up her strong dancer's legs. "Or this," he whispered, brushing a kiss against her cloth covered stomach. "Or these," he said as his hands came to rest on her breasts, knowing just how to touch her to make her moan.

"All of it, Erik," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair and keeping him in place as his lips began placing kisses on her chest, right above where her nightgown began. "Everything is yours."


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: I have always believed that Erik would have acted more like a man than a psychotic lunatic if more people had just treated him as such. In this story, Christine has known Erik as a man for a year, so they've for the most part, gotten past the angst that such a revelation would have caused and have settled into a fairly normal relationship, thus why Erik is acting so...normal. But of course, he's Erik so...assume what you will.

Also, just a small note, the Christine in my story is 18 years old. Mominator124 brought this up in a review and I just wanted to clarify for anyone who was curious. She's a bit more mature than the Christine we're used to, and again, I chalk that up to her age and the fact that she's known about Erik for a year now. She's already done her soul searching and made her decision regarding him.

One last note, I promise, but I forgot to mention that the title of this story comes from the Mika song of the same name, which doesn't belong to me.

* * *

Christine woke the next morning to an empty bed, and while it wasn't an unheard of event, she was a bit disappointed that Erik had not stayed the entire night by her side. But she knew that her fiancé was quite restless, he often spent the nights wandering the corridors of the operahouse, encouraging stories of the Opera Ghost to keep the company and the managers in check. She got up, throwing on her favourite white silk nightgown and moved into Erik's kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

She didn't realize that he was home until he wrapped his arms around her waist and began kissing at her neck. Jumping slightly, she turned around in his arms and lightly shoved his shoulder. "Erik! How many times have I warned you about sneaking up on me? You know that I hate it when you frighten me like that."

"Sorry," he murmured, although the devilish smirk on his face said that he was anything but. Christine simply rolled her eyes and leaned forward to give him a good morning kiss.

They broke apart and she moved back to their breakfast as Erik went to boil some water for tea. "Where were you, ange?" she asked, curious as to what had kept Erik from her side this time.

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see him shrug. "I had a few notes to deliver."

"Erik!" she sighed, plopping their omelettes onto two plates and taking them to the table. "More notes?"

He nodded briefly and then brought their tea over. "Christine, it's the easiest way to communicate with the managers. And I assure you, they were very polite."

Her eyebrow rose disbelievingly, her suspicions only confirmed by the fact that Erik refused to look her in the eye. "I've told you before, Erik. What you view as perfectly polite, others tend to view as quite threatening. Especially when you use that morbid skull seal." At his slight flinch, she knew that he had once again used the macabre seal to send his letters. "Who did you send them to this time and what did they say?"

He took a sip of his tea and a bite of his omelette before answering her, but Christine simply waited for him. "I sent a note to each of the managers, praising your performance last night and reminding them that my salary has not yet been paid." Christine took a bite of her omelette and kept her gaze focused on him, knowing there was more. "I might have also...intimated that Carlotta was...past her prime and should be replaced."

"Is that all?" Christine asked cautiously, hoping it was but knowing Erik, knew it probably wasn't.

He shook his head. "I also sent one to Carlotta stating that...you would be taking over her roles from now on and that she shouldn't attempt to...stand in your way." He waved his hand casually and Christine's stomach sank, knowing that his wording couldn't have possibly been that nice.

"Erik," she moaned. "You know how much Carlotta hates me already! And despite the fact that I had a great triumph last night, I'm sure that the managers will not be so keen to anger her by letting me keep the role." She sighed, shaking her head, knowing that there was nothing to be done now. She would just have to deal with it when she returned to the surface in a few days for something other than the performance. Madame Giry would certainly cover for her, probably telling the managers that she wasn't feeling well. "That is all then?"

Erik still looked to the floor, refusing to meet her gaze and Christine fought back the urge to sigh again. He was so childish sometimes, but it somehow just made him more endearing to her. "I might have...sent one to the Vicomte."

"Oh Erik," she said, reach across the table to grasp his hand. "Must I tell you again, you have nothing to fear from Raoul? What did it say?"

"It said that you were under the care of your Angel of Music and that he should...make no attempt to see you again." Erik scuffed his feet against the floor and Christine couldn't help but smile at him, leaning over the table to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"While I find your jealousy strangely endearing, my love, I'm afraid that the Vicomte will see that as a bit of a threat. I shall have to return to the surface sooner than I was expecting to clear things up." He looked up at her finally, the sadness clear in his eyes. "I know, Erik, I was hoping that I could stay a few days with you. But if Raoul read your note as a threat, he will surely stop at nothing until he finds me. And I won't allow you to be discovered." She leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Your home is a sanctuary for both of us, Erik. And I'd like to keep it that way. Now let's finish our breakfast and hopefully we can return to the surface in time to give Madame Giry a note explaining my disappearance."

Sooner than either of them would have liked, Christine was prepared to leave once more for operahouse above. She walked into the section of his home that Erik tended to use for his work and leaned over his shoulder as he put the finishing touches on the note that Madame Giry would deliver to the managers. Her eyes flitted over the note before Erik slid it into the envelope and she shook her head, burying her face into Erik's neck. "Darling, you do know you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"

Erik scoffed slightly as he picked up the melted wax and poured some onto the envelope, stamping it with his seal. "It's perfectly civil, Christine. They have not obeyed my orders, so I am well within my rights to be a bit short with them. And I refuse to let you be thrust back into the chorus again. Paris is surely begging for you now and if the managers know what is good for their precious pocketbooks, they will surely follow my suggestions." With that, he spun around, taking Christine by surprise and sweeping her off her feet and settling her on his lap. His hands were clasped loosely at the small of her back and she smiled as she wound her arms around his neck. "I wish you didn't have to leave," he murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck. The cold porcelain rubbed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I know, my love," she said, stroking his hair softly. "But it is for the best. And no matter what part I sing tonight, I shall be able to return to you. We do not give Hannibal again for another week and the company has tomorrow off, so I shall be able to spend at least a day or two solely with you, no rehearsals to interrupt." She kissed him gently, indulging in the way that his lips moved across hers. Breaking their kiss, she smiled gently at his slight groan of protest and brushed a brief kiss against his cheek in apology. "If we keep this up, Erik, I'll never return to the surface in time. I'm sure that Raoul will be storming in any minute now, demanding to know my whereabouts. He's turned into quite a powerful man within the operahouse and I'd prefer to lie to him as little as possible."

Erik sighed and nodded, releasing her from his embrace. She held out her hand to him and he took it without hesitation, letting her lead him to the small dock. The trip back to her dressing room was quiet, as always, both parties dreading the goodbye ahead of them. They reached her mirror and Christine turned to Erik, grasping both of his hands in hers and bringing them up to her mouth to place gentle kisses on his knuckles. "You have nothing to fear from Raoul. I care for him as a friend, nothing more. I am yours, Erik." She stood on her tip-toes, letting go of his hands to brace herself on his chest as she kissed him with every ounce of passion that she felt for him. His hands tangled in her hair and she moaned against his lips as he dragged her body closer to his, not leaving an inch of space between them. "I love you, Erik," she whispered as they broke apart, their foreheads touching as they both regained their breath.

"Christine! Christine, where are you? Maman is looking for you!" The couple turned to the two-way mirror to see that Meg had slipped into the dressing room and was hissing for Christine. Erik quickly undid the latch to the mirror and slid it open. Meg jumped slightly in surprise when her two friends emerged through the mirror, before smiling at them. "Good morning, Erik," she nodded to the man that she so often referred to in public as the Phantom of the Opera, but knew in private as simply her best friend's fiancé.

Erik tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You danced very well last night, Meg. Your mother must be proud."

Meg blushed prettily and looked down. "Thank you, monsieur." She then looked over to Christine and shook her head. "We must get you out of here without anyone seeing you. I heard the managers talking about the notes and I know it's only a matter of time before everyone else shows up. Maman is wondering who else we should be expecting."

Christine chuckled slightly as she looked at Erik. "I suspect that we shall soon be graced with Carlotta's and the Vicomte's presence, Meg." She pulled the note from her bodice and handed it to her dear friend. "Do you think that you could give this to your mother? While you are all speaking, I hope that I can get back up to the dormitories without anyone seeing me." Meg snatched the letter up and nodded, looking briefly to the door.

"We must hurry though, Christine, I'm sure they'll be here any minute." Meg turned and quickly opened the door, glancing around briefly to make sure the coast was clear, before slipping through. Before disappearing into the corridors of the operahouse, she turned to wave to her friends, and then quickly shut the door.

Christine turned to Erik, smiling sadly. "I shall have to use that secret way up to the dormitories that you showed me, I'm afraid." Leaning into him once more, she kissed her fiancé goodbye briefly, before drawing back. "I will see you soon, Erik. I love you."

"I love you too, Christine." With that, he stepped back behind the mirror, quickly sliding it shut. Christine sighed and blew a kiss to him, knowing that he would watch her until she was out of the room. She then turned to leave, making sure to lock the door behind her, and hurried up to the dormitories, bypassing the rather sizeable group gathered in the main foyer of the operahouse.

* * *

Things will pick up a bit in the next chapter! Raoul's appearing again and it's time for the infamous Il Muto performance!


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who is reading and taking the time to review! I love to hear your thoughts! Little bit of a longer chapter today, couldn't quite break it up without interrupting the flow. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Christine was freshening up in the room that she shared with Meg in the dormitories, when the petite blonde rushed in, slightly out of breath. "Oh Christine," she wailed, throwing herself dramatically on her bed.

Her friend chuckled slightly and came to sit beside her, reaching out to place a hand on Meg's back. "What is it, Meg? Surely it can't be that bad."

Meg sat up and shook her head, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, for starters, I believe the Vicomte fancies himself quite in love with you. He seemed most concerned and was very disappointed when Maman forbid him to see you." Christine made a face and Meg laughed happily. "Oh Christine, he is so handsome. Since you already have a fiancé, do you think I could have the Vicomte?"

Christine chuckled and shook her head. "Meg, if it were up to me, I would give you the Vicomte on a silver platter. I think that the life of a Vicomtess would suit you quite well. Perhaps I should push him in your direction?" The other girl giggled and nodded vigorously.

"Please do! Anyway, the managers have refused Erik's demands and insist that Carlotta will play the Countess tonight." Christine sighed, getting up off the bed to go and fetch a comb for her hair.

"Erik will not be pleased," she murmured, carefully running the comb through her unruly hair, attempting to tame it.

"That's what Maman tried to tell them, but they would not listen. And the Vicomte seemed very interested in where these notes were coming from. I seem to recall him saying they were lunatic demands. He asked Maman if the notes were coming from your Angel of Music." Christine pursed her lips in thought when Meg revealed that particular bit of information. "She admitted to the fact that you heard the voice of an angel, but no more." Meg paused, getting up to lay a gentle hand on her friend's back. "Do you think Erik is in danger from the Vicomte?"

Christine shook her head. "I don't know. I know that Erik is more than capable of handling himself, but...he is ever so jealous, Meg. And he even admitted to me that he is extremely jealous of Raoul, no matter how much I tried to allay his fears." She sighed. "I shouldn't have told him the story of my Angel. But I was trying to be his Little Lotte again, I suppose. Trying to relive our past. And it was safer than saying that I couldn't possibly dine with him because I wanted to spend time with my fiancé in his home beneath the operahouse."

Meg smiled softly and leaned her head against Christine's shoulder. "It will be fine, Christine. I'm sure that Erik will throw some fuss tonight to try and scare the managers into doing his bidding and then things will return to normal. And by the end of the season, you will be a married woman and I shall be a Vicomtess!" Meg brightened when her attempt to cheer Christine was successful and the other girl began giggling.

"Sounds wonderful!" She laid the comb back down and sighed. "I suppose we should go to rehearsal." Meg nodded and linked arms with Christine as they ventured down to the auditorium.

* * *

Christine sighed, pulling on the trousers of her pageboy costume, when her mirror slid open and Erik's arm wrapped around her waist. "They are fools, Christine. I will not allow this kind of disobedience in my operahouse." He placed a kiss against her neck, his lips lingering on the sensitive skin.

She moaned softly, leaning into him, before placing both hands over the arm around her stomach. "Erik, please don't do anything rash. It's fine, honestly. I had one great triumph but I will still have to build my reputation. The name Christine Daaé does not sell the same amount of tickets as La Carlotta does. Not yet."

"I don't know if my ears can tolerate her screeching for one minute more, Christine," he growled into her neck. "It's like...like a cat, slowly being strangled."

She turned in his embrace, burying her face in his neck. "Please don't tell me that you know what that sounds like from personal experience," she muttered. Looking up at him, he indulged in the wicked gleam he saw in her eye, something quite unusual for his sweet-natured Christine. "Besides, I always thought that she sounded rather like a toad."

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her softly. "A toad! Indeed, my sweet Christine." He growled slightly as he caught a glance of the clock, noticing the time. "You need to get to the wings. Despite the fact that your part is silent, it is indeed integral to the plot."

She grinned, leaning into him and kissing him once more. "You will be watching?"

"I have never missed a performance featuring you, Christine. You know that. Even though I will not be able to watch from Box Five yet again, as that idiot Vicomte is there." Christine smirked at the tone in his voice, gently stroking his exposed cheek. "I will be there, love. As always. You might even see me this time."

She stiffened in his embrace, looking up at him in alarm. "Erik. Please-"

A leather covered finger landed on her lips and she shivered slightly at the sensation. "Don't worry about me, Christine. Now go, though I would be prepared to sing the part of the Countess if the need were to arise."

"Erik-" she protested again, but this time he kissed her silent.

They broke apart and he gently steered her towards the door, despite the fact that she was still attempting to extract a promise from him. "Go Christine. I will see you after the performance." She sighed helplessly as he all but pushed her out the door, closing and locking it quickly before she could attempt to get back in. She growled softly and stomped her foot like a petulant child, before turning and coming face to face with Madame Giry and Meg. She blushed furiously as Madame simply lifted a curious eyebrow and Meg stifled her giggles with a bite to her lip. Nodding, the two other women turned and Christine followed them as they moved towards the stage.

* * *

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be left empty?"

Christine rolled her eyes as the entire auditorium gasped and looked around wildly for the booming voice that seemed to fill the entire space. Truly, Erik knew how to cause a scene. Meg giggled slightly as she moved forward, shrieking, "It's him, the Phantom of the Opera!" and pointed up towards the chandelier, where sure enough, Christine caught a glimpse of a black cloak seemingly disappearing into the walls.

There was another gasp of horror from the various patrons of the opera as everyone attempted to get a look at the mysterious figure who was already long gone. Christine squeezed Meg's hand as she came back to her friend's side and shook her head, unable to contain her mirth. She would have to tease Erik about roping Meg into helping him perpetuate his Opera Ghost myth, although it appeared that Meg rather relished her role. "The Phantom of the Opera indeed," she said dryly, her comment intended for Meg's ears only.

But Carlotta spun around and angrily shook her fan at Christine. "Your part is silent, little toad!" She spun back around and stalked off into the wings to briefly get a spritz of her beloved throat spray, as Meg and Christine looked at each other and did their best to suppress their laughter at the diva's antics.

Monsieur Reyer began motioning frantically for them to get back to their places and Christine and Meg broke apart, retreating to their respective marks. Carlotta came bustling back on stage, making sure to bump against Christine with her large skirts, causing the girl to lose her balance slightly. Carlotta began again, while Christine struggled not to flinch as she sang through her part. "You cannot speak but kiss me in my h-" Suddenly Carlotta let loose a horrid choking noise, something that, Christine noticed with a certain amount of amusement, sounded quite a bit like a toad croaking.

She knew in that moment that Erik was behind whatever was now plaguing Carlotta and couldn't help it when her jaw dropped open in shock when Carlotta continued to croak, before flying off the stage in tears. The curtain dropped, hiding the company on stage. Certainly, Erik didn't like the woman, but even this sort of humiliation was crueler than necessary. She would be certain to tell him so when she saw him that night. But then she met Meg's eyes from across the stage and couldn't help but laugh when she saw her beloved friend almost bent over in hysterics. Christine could hear the managers speaking onstage but was taken completely by surprise when she felt someone grab her hand and drag her out through the curtain.

"The role of the Countess will be played by Miss Christine Daaé!" The managers announced and Christine was flustered when the words were met with a roar from applause from the audience. She was quickly escorted offstage by someone and it took her a moment to realize that Madame Giry had her hand and was now leading her backstage, towards her dressing room.

Once they reached her dressing room, she smiled as she caught sight of the single red rose, wrapped with black ribbon with all of the thorns removed, waiting for her on her vanity. Madame Giry huffed slightly, already helping Christine out of her pageboy costume. "I wonder if your dear Angel realizes how much trouble he could possibly get you in?"

"What do you mean?" Christine asked, honestly curious as she fingered the petals of the rose.

"If the managers ever question why it is that he is so fond of you...My dear, you must know that they tire of his tricks. They wish to see him gone. If they ever discover your relationship with him, it could lead to disaster," Madame Giry spoke shortly, tugging this way and that at Christine's corset, preparing her figure for the fine gown that someone had delivered to her room as her costume for the Countess.

"I would never betray him, Madame," Christine said, her voice infused with steel. Madame Giry paused for a second, laying a soft hand on Christine's shoulder.

"I know you wouldn't, my dear. And I wasn't implying that you would. But...they could easily use you against him. That is what I'm afraid of. He does not like being toyed with and if he thought that you were being used by the managers, against him, the situation could spin out of control." She sighed, going to the chaise where Christine's gown was laid out. "Come my dear, we need to get you back to the stage as soon as possible."

Both women emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, Christine looking like a queen in her elegant dress. The next scene of the opera was to take place in a garden, so she had a rather beautiful red cloak on that fluttered behind her as she made her way to the stage behind Madame Giry. Suddenly, screams erupted from near the stage and Christine and Madame looked at each other in fear and went speeding towards the stage. Before Christine could find out what all the fuss was about, she felt someone grab her hand and lead her in the other direction.

At first she thought it was Erik, but upon further inspection she saw that the figure was all wrong, as well as the colouring. The man leading her away from the stage was shorter than Erik, less broad, his hair was a soft honey colour. "Raoul!" Christine gasped as she realized who was pulling her through the corridors of the operahouse. "Raoul, where are we going? What is going on?"

"You're not safe here, Christine!" he shouted behind him. She tried to protest, tugging on his hand, but he was stronger than she was and continued to take her up, higher and higher into the operahouse.

Finally, they could go no further and he pushed open a door that led to the roof. She had been up here once before with Erik, it was a day just a few months ago, they had brought up a blanket and watched the sunset and then looked at the stars. Now, the roof was covered in snow and Christine clutched at the cloak, attempting to ward off the chill. "Raoul, what is going on? Why did you drag me up here?"

"You're not safe down there, Christine. That...madman will stop at nothing to have you in his clutches!" Raoul was out of breath and running his fingers through his hair wildly. Christine rather thought that at the moment, he was the one who looked a madman, but didn't dare tell him that. "He killed Joseph Buquet, to prove a point, Christine. He is mad!"

Christine's hand flew to her mouth in shock. What he said could not be true. Yes, Erik would kill for her and she knew that he was capable of a great many things. He had told her one night of his past, of the way that he escaped his captivity, how he had strangled his abuser and then escaped with Madame Giry. He had hinted at his travels to Persia and the unsavoury employment he had found there. She knew that he had blood on his hands. But to kill Joseph Buquet for no reason? Her stomach knotted in fear. No, either Raoul was wrong and Erik was not the poor man's murderer or there were things that the Vicomte was not aware of. Things that could mean that Erik was in danger. But either way, she was not going to let him know that she was more concerned about the so-called Phantom than his supposed victim.

She was quite literally shaken out of her thoughts by Raoul, grasping her shoulders and gently shaking her. "Did you hear me, Christine? Do you know him? What does he want with you?"

Christine quickly called upon all the acting lessons that Erik had given her and schooled her expression into what she hoped passed for horrified. "The Phantom? What would he want with me? Until just last night I was nothing more than a chorus girl."

Raoul's grip on her shoulder weakened and one of his hands came up to cup her cheek. "He seems to have taken an interest in you, Little Lotte. The managers have told me of the notes that they've received from him, regarding you. I'm sorry to say, darling, but I fear that your Angel of Music and the Phantom of the Opera are one in the same."

She twisted away from his grasp and hoped that he thought it was because of shock, not because she was attempting to keep her expression somber. It wouldn't do to have her bursting into laughter over poor Raoul's attempts at 'protecting' her. "What happened to Buquet?" she asked quietly, still turned away and aiming to distract him.

"It was a truly horrible sight, Christine, I am glad that you were not present." Christine rolled her eyes, glad that she was still turned away from him. Did he forget that her own father was dead, that her last memory of him was cradling his cold and lifeless body? She knew that death was a horrible sight; she was not some child that needed to be coddled. "The managers had demanded the ballet from act three to keep people entertained while you changed. In the middle of it, suddenly a man's body fell from the rafters; it appeared as if someone had wrapped a noose around his neck. He hung in the air for a moment before dropping to the stage. People began screaming and fleeing and someone shouted that it must have been the Phantom."

Christine sighed at that last bit of information revealed. She knew that Meg would never accuse Erik of such a thing, but clearly someone had gotten into the habit of accusing the Phantom of acts as well, acts far more sinister than dropping set pieces and croaking divas. It was probably Jammes, the girl copied every move that Meg made. But no matter now, she had to convince Raoul that she was perfectly safe and return to the operahouse in case the opera were to continue. "That's so awful, Raoul!" she exclaimed, truly feeling some sorrow at hearing the story. Buquet had never been her favourite person, she herself had been cornered by him and his wandering hands one too many times, but no man deserved such a death.

She was taken by surprise as she was suddenly swept around and found herself in the Vicomte's embrace. "I won't let him hurt you, Little Lotte. You'll come home with me tonight, I'll protect you."

Shaking her head and pushing against his chest, she finally got him to release her. "No Raoul! I couldn't! It wouldn't be proper for one and two, the operahouse is my home. I need to be here with my friends during this time. They can protect me! Besides, even if the Phantom and my Angel are one in the same, my Angel would never do me harm. I have no fear of him, Raoul."

"Little Lotte, please," Raoul pleaded with her but she shook her head vehemently.

"No Raoul. I will not run away. I must stay here with the company while we figure out what is going on. I am in no danger, I promise you." She looked around, wandering slightly closer to the edge to look down upon the city. It appeared as if some of the patrons had left, but many were still in attendance, which meant that she would be expected on stage at any moment. "We must return to the opera, Raoul. They will be expecting me to sing."

_Christine_...

She gasped as she heard Erik's voice in her ear, as if he was standing behind her, but spun around to find no one there. Raoul was immediately by her side, inquiring as to what was wrong but she waved off his concern and managed to get him to go down to the operahouse, to ascertain that they were continuing with the opera. "Erik?" she whispered, once she was certain that Raoul was gone. "Are you here?"

All at once, she was enveloped in a black cloak, his lips passionately finding hers. Christine relaxed into his arms, recognizing him in the way that he held her and his scent. Her hands rested on his chest and she gently pushed him away when she realized that he was trembling violently. "Erik, my love, you must return home. Many people are on the lookout for you right now, so you need to go home and stay there, stay safe, alright? I will come to you after the performance tonight. Erik? Are you listening?"

He nodded silently and drew her to him for another kiss. Christine sighed against his lips, wanting desperately to get lost in him, but knowing that she was needed down below. "Please, my love, go. I will see you later," she murmured against his lips. He nodded once more and disappeared into the shadows. Christine sighed, praying that he would keep himself out of sight, and headed back down towards the stage.


	4. Chapter 4

The performance went off without another hitch, although the atmosphere in the theatre felt as if everyone was holding their breath the entire show. Christine sang flawlessly and she hoped that Erik could hear her, beneath the operahouse, and that her voice calmed him somewhat. Although he said nothing during their brief rooftop encounter, she could tell that he was indeed involved with what happened to Buquet and it was obvious that it had shaken him badly.

After the final curtain call, she rushed back to her dressing room, flanked by both the Giry women. As they helped her out of her costume and stage makeup, the three of them concocted what they would tell the Vicomte, as they were almost certain that he would seek her out after the performance. "Just tell him that I'm exhausted. I'm staying the night tonight in familiar surroundings, with the two of you and that...I'll see him in two days at rehearsals?"

"What if he wants to...oh I don't know. Do something silly, like guard our room? He will know that you didn't stay there," Meg said, as she hung up the gown in the armoire in the corner of the room.

Madame Giry chuckled slightly and the two younger women looked at her in shock. "Meg, darling, do you really think that the Vicomte would sleep outside the door of a ballet dormitory? I'm sure it'll be fine." The two younger women exchanged a look and Christine smirked slightly and then shrugged.

"You're right, as always, Maman," Meg chuckled and handed Christine one of her regular gowns, a simple cream day dress. Quickly, Christine slipped it over her head and Madame Giry quickly buttoned up the back and tied the sash. Christine turned to the mirror and smiled at the other women.

"Thank you, both of you. I will send you a note tomorrow to let you know how Erik is." She smiled softly as she quickly slid her hand behind the mirror and clicked the mechanism, causing the mirror to slide open. Grabbing the torch that was inside the sconce at the beginning of the passage, Madame Giry lit it with a candle from inside the room, and then leaned forward to gently kiss her cheek.

"Take care of him, Christine."

Christine smiled and nodded to both of her dear friends. "I will. Sleep well." With that she stepped inside the passage and then triggered the mechanism, sliding the mirror shut. The journey down to Erik's home took a bit longer than usual, although Christine was familiar with the tunnels; it wasn't often that she travelled them alone.

She smiled softly when she saw that he had left the boat for her and quickly hopped inside, slowly making her way to his home. Before she even reached the familiar portcullis, she could hear noises coming from his lair, something that sounded suspiciously like a vase being broken. Attempting to speed along her journey, she began pushing the boat with all her might. "Erik!" she called out as she approached the gate. The sounds of destruction ceased and he came into sight, yanking on the lever that raised the gate.

He watched her without saying a word as she hopped out of the boat and tied it to his makeshift dock. "Oh Erik," she murmured, looking around his home. Multiple marble busts lay in pieces and there were sheets of parchment everywhere, some parts of scores he had written and some of his various portraits. It was obvious that he had been hard at work destroying whatever he could get his hands on. Turning to Erik, she gasped slightly; his hair was in disarray and his knuckles bloody, his shirt barely covering his chest.

"Why are you here?" he murmured lowly, still keeping his gaze focused solely on her.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" she asked, her temper quick to flare at the insinuation that she wouldn't come to him.

He started advancing towards her and she suppressed a shudder. She had never seen Erik like this; usually he was such a gentle man. But right now, he was acting like a predator, stalking towards her as if she was his prey. "Aren't you frightened of me, Christine?" he hissed, pulling her close to him once she was within arm's reach, his hands fisting in her gown. "I am, after all, the fearsome Opera Ghost!"

She shook her head, forcing herself to relax in his too-tight grip. "I am not frightened of you, Erik!" She put special emphasis on his name, rather than his pseudonym. "Now stop this insane behaviour at once! You're injured and I need to attend to your wounds," she stated with as much strength as she could muster.

Her tone seemed to reach him, as Erik suddenly shook his head and the dark cloud that seemed to hang upon his face dimmed slightly. "Christine," he breathed, letting go of her waist and ghosting his fingers across her cheeks.

"I'm here. And I am not going anywhere," she told him, in no uncertain terms. He nodded slightly; suddenly unable to meet her gaze, like a little boy who knew that he had been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. Christine gently took one bloodied hand and led him through his home to the kitchen where she demanded that he sit in one of the chairs while she fetched the meager medical supplies he kept.

She cleaned his wounds gently, not surprised that he didn't so much as hiss with pain while she went about her tasks. She imagined he had been through much worse than this and had always tended to his wounds himself. Wrapping his knuckles with cloth, she returned the supplies to their proper cabinet and then sat back down, leaning forward to grasp his masked cheek. "Erik...tell me what happened."

He jerked away from her touch and she winced, but understood his not so subtle insinuation. This was not the time to draw attention to his mask. Her hands folded in her lap as she waited for him to start talking. "You know of my past, Christine. I am not proud of it, but...I have tried so hard to be a better man for you." He looked up at her, pleading with her to understand. She leaned forward slightly and rested her hands over his bandaged ones. "Joseph Buquet...was a pig. He had spied on you, made holes in your dressing room wall. I always covered them up, but he would always just create new ones."

Christine fought to keep her expression neutral. Had Erik killed him because of that? Because of her? He was jealous and had a terrible temper but...was he so easily driven to violence?

Erik looked away from her, but kept his hands still, her touch grounding him. "He followed me into the cellars the other night. He was getting far too close to my home, Christine. If it weren't for one of the traps that I had set...he might have found his way here. I couldn't allow him to try again. I encountered him by chance on the catwalks tonight and saw an easy solution to all the problems that Joseph Buquet caused." The unemotional tone that Erik was suddenly using sent shivers up Christine's spine, but she did not move away from him. This was still Erik. This was still her fiancé and nothing he could say would change that.

Glancing up at Erik, her heart broke when she saw the look on his face. He looked so forlorn and resigned, as if he was expecting her to just up and leave after his confession. Christine leaned forward and gently kissed him, this time grasping his bare cheek. "Erik," she murmured, imploring him to look up at her. Reluctantly, he met her gaze, shrinking in on himself as if he was anticipating her anger or perhaps even violence. Her soul ached as she scooted forward, so their knees were touching and she leaned in to touch her forehead to his. "Erik, you did what you had to do. It was not right but...you were protecting yourself."

He tried to avoid her gaze but her hand on his cheek made it quite difficult. "I understand if you want to break our engagement. You should not be involved with a murderer, Christine. You should go to that...that boy who is so enchanted with you. Beg him to take you away."

Christine's temper flared again at the resigned tone in Erik's voice. He wanted Raoul to take her away? Not only from him, but from the operahouse? From the career that both of them had worked so hard to build? "No Erik. I do not want to break our engagement. I do not want to run off with the Vicomte and frankly am quite insulted that you would even think such a thing." She kissed him once more, this time forceful and passionate, trying to make him believe her. "I love you, Erik. And I will tell you so, every day for the rest of our lives. I only hope that one day you will believe me."

His hands came up to rest on her shoulders, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I've made a mess of things, Christine," he murmured. "How will we ever be able to be wed now? I'll be a wanted man."

She shook her head, her hands lying gently over his. "You'll just have to be very careful for awhile, Erik. More than likely, Joseph Buquet's death will be ruled an accident. After all, it is quite hard to blame a ghost for such a thing. There is nothing actually tying you to it." Christine's mind was racing as she spoke. Her fiancé had killed a man and she was thinking of ways to keep him out of the clutches of the authorities. Is this who she was now? An accomplice? "You will just have to be quiet for a few months and things will return to normal. We can wed and start our new lives together and no one will ever have to know that the husband of Christine Daaé is the infamous Opera Ghost."

She leaned forward and brushed her lips to his forehead. "Let's retire, my love. We have both had a very trying day...we should get some rest." Numbly, she led him to his bedroom and they both prepared for bed. Slipping beneath the covers, she turned on her side and waited until Erik padded over as well and blew out the candles that had illuminated the room. He slid into bed beside her and pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist.

Until she fell asleep, she stared at his hand, lying so innocently on her stomach, picturing it tightening his infamous lasso around Joseph's neck. Her eyes slowly drifted closed, her dreams that night were plagued by the dreaded Opera Ghost and that feral look in Erik's eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Another chapter! This one is probably my favorite, I love to write unmasking scenes. Just a quick reminder to please review! I love hearing what's working for you guys, what's not working for you guys, hearing suggestions, etc... And...I like to know that I'm not just posting for myself here. :) Hope that you enjoy!

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When she awoke the next morning, Erik was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the two of them. She sat down at the table silently, watching him as he moved around the kitchen. He set her plate down in front of her, but she barely acknowledged the food. "Are you feeling alright, Christine? You're awfully quiet this morning."

"Let me see your face," she replied quietly, never once breaking her gaze.

Erik's fork clattered to his plate and he pushed back, away from the table. "No." He got up and walked over to one of his counter tops, separating himself from her.

"Erik, please. I was thinking all night about how...how the same hands that hold me have wrung the life from a man. And how I love you in spite of that. I love all of you, Erik, I do, but I have only ever seen half of your face." She finally looked down at her hands, realizing that regaining his gaze would be next to impossible as he paced behind the counter. "Let me see, Erik. Please."

"You ask," he spoke through gritted teeth, "the one thing that I can never grant you, Christine. My face...is hideous. I can barely stand to look at myself in a mirror without feeling sick, how can you ask me to subject you to the same torture?"

She got up and met him at the counter, grabbing his arms so he was forced to stop pacing. "Do you think me so shallow, Erik? You have been my teacher for years, my dearest friend...the man I love for nearly a year now. I used to think that you were just eccentric, but I know...I know the mask hides something horrible. But it is your face, Erik. The face of the man that I love and I have never seen it!" Her voice escalated as her speech grew more impassioned. That simple white mask taunted her, letting her only see what Erik wanted her to see. Well it wasn't enough anymore. She needed to see his face, she needed it just as much as she needed her next breath, she was certain of it.

"Christine, no. I won't subject you to it." Erik's voice was calm as he tried to soothe her. She felt the hypnotic pull of his voice try and lull her into complacency and for the first time in her life, she fought it.

"It is not your choice! I have to see your face, Erik! I need to see all of you!" And with that, Christine's hand flew up and pried off his mask, tossing it to the ground.

For a moment, Erik stood still as a statue and stared down at Christine. Her hand flew to her mouth, horrified that she had just acted like a spoiled child and torn his mask from his face.

But Erik didn't know that. All he saw was what he assumed to be horror and disgust on Christine's face. Christine, the only woman who had ever loved him, had covered her mouth in disgust at the sight of his face. Like every other person who had ever had the unfortunate luck to stumble upon him. He began to shake, his vision blurring and reddening at the edges. "I thought you loved me, Christine. I thought you were different."

His voice was cold and Christine felt a shiver run up her spine. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the night before, that wild look in his eyes. It had returned and with a vengeance. "Erik, I-" she reached out to him, her fingertips brushing his chest.

He stepped back from her, hissing, as if she'd burnt him with her touch. "Look upon the monster, Christine!" As he spoke, he began to move towards her, never touching her, but every movement screamed 'danger'. His voice escalated in volume as he kept on advancing towards her. "It is what you wanted to see, isn't it? It's what everyone wants to see. The face of the Devil's Child! But they all had to pay! Pay a price to see this cursed face!" His hand suddenly shot up and tangled his fingers in her hair, wrenching her head back and snarling in her face. "What should I make you pay, Christine? Hmm?"

Christine had been backing up rapidly, as Erik continued to advance on her. She lost her footing when he grabbed her hair and fell, giving out a small cry as she landed on her backside, a sharp pain shooting through her wrist as her hands fell behind her in an attempt to break her fall. His hand unwound from her hair but now he was screaming at her, towering over her as he raged. "You little Delilah! You just had to go and ruin it all!" He started laughing manically as Christine struggled to get up.

"Erik, you're scaring me!" she called out to him desperately, praying she could reach him through his rage. But her prayers went unanswered as he suddenly bent forward, so close that their noses were nearly touching.

His hands landed on her shoulders, pushing her back down to the ground. "Scared of me now, are you, Christine? Who wouldn't be scared of Erik? But now, now you can never leave, Christine. No one who sees Erik's face can ever leave!" He continued with his horrible laugh, straightening and turning around briefly, marching off as if to retrieve something.

Christine saw her chance and scrambled to her feet, taking off in a blind run. She knew that taking the gondola across the lake and back to the surface would be a bad idea, in this sudden madness that had seized Erik; she could very well end up drowned in the lake. She had never thought that Erik was capable of such violence towards her, but that man, the man that had just been shouting at her, that was not her Erik. That...that had been the Phantom of the Opera.

She heard a tremendous roar behind her and she realized that Erik had noticed she had disappeared. Continuing to run through the familiar tunnels, she had to try and keep focused, to turn at the right corridors to lead her back to the surface, despite the fact that she could hear Erik gaining on her. Eventually she came to the tunnel that led to her floor of the dormitory; the exit of the tunnel was just a few feet away from her and Meg's room. Sprinting towards the crack of light shining through, she pressed desperately against the door, finally getting it to open and she fell out into the hallway.

She flew into her room, quickly locking the door and then falling onto her bed, sobbing and gasping for breath. Meg's eyes had widened when her friend flew into the room and then collapsed with no explanation. Putting down her hairbrush, she went to Christine's side, placing a gentle hand on Christine's back. "Christine...Christine, what's wrong? Are you alright? Christine?"

She dragged Christine into a sitting position, stroking her hair lightly as Christine turned and sobbed into her neck. After a few minutes, she managed to calm herself enough to choke out, "Erik...it's Erik."

Meg's heart immediately sank. Had he been injured? Was he dead? But if something so terrible had befallen Erik, why had Christine flown into their room as if the Devil himself was chasing her? Had someone hurt Erik and was after her now? "He's...I ...I took off his mask, Meg." Her voice had lowered to a whisper; Meg had to lean forward to hear her. "He was so angry..."

"You took off his mask, Christine? Are the stories true then? Is he really...hideous?" Meg couldn't quite help herself. When she first found out that her friend's great teacher was none other than the Opera Ghost, she had bombarded Christine with questions. The legend had always fascinated Meg and to learn that he was nothing more than a man was a bit disappointing. But his mask had intrigued her from the first time that they had been properly introduced, but she took great pains not to dwell on it, as Christine had told her to.

Christine waved her hand as if to brush the thought away. "His face...it was startling, Meg, because it does not look like your face or like mine...but, it was _his_ face. It didn't matter because it was the face of the man that I love. But...the anger. Oh, he was so angry with me, Meg. As he should have been, I just...ripped it from his face!"

Christine shook her head as she recounted the event . "I told him that I had to see. That I knew all of him and loved him and that I couldn't stand it anymore. And he kept on telling me that I couldn't and I just...I tore it off, Meg. And all the sudden...Erik was gone. And in his place was this...madman. The Opera Ghost. And he screamed and raged at me and told me that I could never leave..." She looked down at her wrist, swollen and purple from when she had landed on it. "I tripped..." she murmured, holding it limply against her chest. "I tried to get back up and he pushed me back. He was so frightening, Meg. I've never seen anyone act like that before. It wasn't his face that I found terrifying, it was that look in his eyes."

"Oh Christine," Meg breathed, wrapping her arms around her friend. "Come, we need to get your wrist sorted. And then I think you should talk to Maman. She knows Erik better than anyone, save you. She will know what to do."

"I have to get back to him, Meg. I have to tell him that it wasn't his face, that I still love him..." Christine insisted, pushing weakly at Meg's hands as she helped her to her feet.

"No. What you need to do, Christine Daaé, is take care of that wrist. Erik will have to wait." Meg ushered her out of their room, glancing around the hallway first before grabbing a hold of Christine's good hand and dragging her down to her mother's chambers.

"Maman!" Meg shouted through the door as she pounded on it. "Maman, please open, it's Christine! She needs your help!" The door swung open and Madame Giry stood there with fury in her eyes.

"Heavens, Marguerite! You could wake the dead with that pounding!" She took one look at Christine, who was standing behind Meg and cradling her wrist, looking like a lost little girl and the anger faded as she quickly ushered them inside. "Go and get some bandages from my armoire, Meg. And then go to the kitchen and get Christine some tea. It will help calm her." She pointed to a chair for Christine, which she gratefully collapsed into. Madame Giry pulled up another chair across from Christine and gingerly began binding her wrist. "You are lucky. This looks like just a sprain. Would you like to tell me what happened, Christine?"

Immediately, Christine began recounting the tale, in a slightly more coherent fashion. Madame Giry silently bound her wrist, nodding occasionally to reveal that she was obviously carefully listening to every word. Christine fell silent after she told Madame Giry how she had burst into her room and how Meg had insisted they come here. At some point during her tale, Meg had slipped in and handed her some tea, before leaving the two of them alone again. "Oh Madame," Christine sighed, "what am I to do? Erik was terrifying, yes, but it wasn't because of his face...it was his temper. I'd never seen him so angry before."

Madame Giry sighed as she laid Christine's hand down. "Erik...has lived through things that no one should ever have to live through. That anger was sometimes the only thing that kept him alive." She shook her head, looking down at Christine's wrist. "But he should not have ever shown that anger to you."

"But I should not have taken his mask," Christine murmured.

Madame Giry's head tilted to the side and she nodded slightly. "That is also true. But I am not sure if Erik would have ever showed you his face, Christine. He loves you more than life itself and his worst fear was that you would not love him back. All his life, he has been made to believe that his face made it impossible for anyone to love him. That he wasn't deserving of love because of it."

Christine sighed miserably and rubbed at her temple with her good hand. "And all I have done is perpetuate his belief. What should I do, Madame Giry?"

The older woman smiled softly and got up, moving to put back her medical supplies. "I imagine that Erik has calmed down by now. If you were to go to him, I believe that he would be susceptible to you and what you have to say. Just let him know that you still love him, Christine. That you love him in spite of his face." Christine nodded slightly and smiled up at the woman who was her surrogate mother.

"Thank you, Madame Giry," she murmured. The older woman smiled and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Christine's forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: I'm actually not quite pleased with this yet, but it's been a long time since I've posted, so I wanted to get something up! NaNoWriMo and school sort of consumed my life this past month, but the semester is almost finished so I should have some more free time soon. Any comments/constructive criticisms are more than welcome! And I also love hearing about what's working for you in this story. Thanks so much for reading!

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Christine sighed and fought back a shiver as she strode forward through the dank corridor. She'd forgotten how cold this particular passage was and had neglected to grab a cloak before she'd started her descent. Her stomach felt queasy, as if the food that she had just eaten didn't agree with her. Shaking her head, she pushed on, desperate to get to Erik. She needed to get back to him, to reassure him of her love...to reassure herself that the man that she had fallen in love with still existed. She was frightened that Erik had fled, leaving her behind to carry on at the opera house without him.

Once, Madame Giry had told her about when he had left for Persia. They had had a fight and when she had come down to his home a few hours afterwards, he had vanished without so much as a word. She was terrified that he had run again, terrified that he had left her alone. Even though Meg and Madame had insisted that she change and eat before venturing back to Erik's home, she felt her stomach knotting with each passing hour that she was kept away from him.

Part of her was still frightened by him...by the wildness that she had seen in his eyes. But it was the first time...he had always been so kind to her, never anything more than a perfect gentleman. That was the Erik that she knew and loved...she did not know what to make of the madman that had come after her only a few hours before. That man was not her Erik and she was not quite certain how to reconcile the two. Which man would she be greeted with when she entered his home?

A warm light lit up the end of the tunnel and she smiled softly, knowing that she was close. She also took it as a sign that he was still at home. But as she drew closer to the light of Erik's home, a peculiar sound assaulted her ears. It almost sounded like...weeping? She quickly pushed away her own anxieties about her current situation and hastened her pace, making her way to the end of the corridor as fast as she could.

She emerged near Erik's kitchen and she quickly discerned that the weeping was coming from Erik's music room. After she extinguished and set down her torch, she made her way through the familiar halls and sent a prayer of thanks up to God when she discovered that the door to the music room was shut but not locked. Gently, she opened the door and her heart broke at what she saw.

Erik was slumped over his piano, sheet music surrounding him, weeping. Her soul ached as she listened to his heaving breaths and she was struck with guilt as she wondered how long he had been like this while she had been on the surface. The man in front of her, her Erik, was clearly broken and she had the overwhelming desire to help fix him. She was at his side in an instant, kneeling at his feet and placing a gentle hand on his back. "Erik," she whispered, hoping to draw his attention.

His head lifted from his piano and he turned slightly to face her. His sobs almost grew in their intensity when he saw her and she couldn't help but be slightly bewildered. "And now my mind tortures me with images of her, with her sweet scent! Oh I must have died and this must be hell!"

She gasped as his head returned to the piano and she quickly laid both her hands on his knees. He turned to her once more and she urgently cupped his face, noting absently that he had not replaced his mask and her hand was covering the cheek usually covered by porcelain. "Erik, you are alive, my love. And I am here."

Her other hand rose to cup his other cheek, her hands framing his face lovingly. One of his hands rose uncertainly, reaching out to her cheek. His fingertips brushed against her soft skin briefly, before drawing back as if she'd burnt him. His face crumpled and he began shaking his head, as Christine's hands stayed on his cheeks. "No, no! She wouldn't return. Not after what she told Meg. This must be insanity!"

She rose slightly, bringing her face close to his. "Erik," she called out firmly, willing him to look at her. His tears had slowed down by now and his breath was almost steady. Uncertainly, as if he was afraid she was still a figment of his imagination and would disappear if he looked at her directly, he raised his gaze to hers. "Erik, I am here. I did not leave you. I could not. My heart is here with you." One hand left his cheek and frantically reached down to grasp his hand. She drew it to her breast, over her heart and pressed down. "Do you feel it, Erik? It only beats when you are near."

His hand rose once again to her cheek, this time he fully cupped her fair skin and she nuzzled into his touch. "Christine?" he asked, still unsure if this was an illusion or not.

She nodded against his hand, locking gazes with him. "I'm here, Erik."

"Christine," he breathed, a moment before he got to his feet and pulled her up with him, crushing her in his embrace. His kiss was desperate, as if he was dying of thirst and she was a cool oasis. Her hands were trapped against his chest and she winced slightly as an uncomfortable amount of pressure was placed on her bad wrist. Erik felt it through their kiss and immediately broke off, and Christine delicately removed her wrist from between their bodies.

Erik grabbed her arm, staring only at the bandages. "I did this," he said sadly, looking as if he was going to start to cry again.

Christine shook her head sharply and called out to him, drawing his gaze away from her wrist. "Erik, no. You didn't. I fell and I sprained my wrist." She was desperate to convince him that he was blameless, as in her mind, he was. The man that had frightened her so was not her Erik, he was the Opera Ghost. Her mind refused to acknowledge that they were the same man.

His gaze lowered briefly before he looked back up at her, his eyes mournful. "You would not have fallen if I had not frightened you so." She just shook her head fervently and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, attempting to calm him.

"You heard my conversation with Meg?" she asked, trying to get his focus away from her injury. She felt him nod against her lips, still pressed against his forehead. "Then you know that your face is not what frightened me?" Once more he nodded and she smiled slightly. She leaned back, cupping his cheeks and meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry for grabbing at your mask, Erik. It was wrong of me...childish and rude and...I will never do it again, I promise, my love. Do you trust me still, Erik? Can you forgive me?"

"Christine, of course...I trust you with my life. But all my life, I have been shunned because of my face, because people fear it. I know that I call you my angel, but I know that you are only human, Christine. I was scared that you would be frightened of me, just as everyone else has been," he murmured, looking down as Christine squeezed his hand and shook her head.

"I am not frightened of you, Erik," she told him passionately, willing him to believe her...willing herself to believe it. "You are my everything, mon ange."

"And you are mine, Christine," he whispered, tangling his fingers in her hair. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes briefly. "Will you forgive me, Christine? I am not deserving but...please say you will."

She shook her head. "Of course you are deserving, Erik. You will always have my forgiveness." Leaning forward, she gently brushed his lips in a kiss, before moving to lightly kiss both cheeks. "And my love. I will always love you, Erik." He opened his lips to protest and she shook her head, placing a gentle finger on his lips, not wanting to talk about it anymore. "That is the final word on the matter. Now please, Erik, will you play for me? I think that it would soothe both of us."

He looked down at her, his eyes still sad. She smiled softly at him and tugged him forward, going over to where he kept all of his sheet music. She picked out one of her favourite compositions, something that he had written her for her birthday this past year and set it down on the piano. Obligingly, he sat at the bench once more and Christine took a seat next to him.

As he began playing, Christine closed her eyes and let his music take her away. She did not have to think about the fear that had paralyzed her only hours before; she did not have to think about anything at all. She could just sit there and marvel at his genius, at the way that he could write such beautiful melodies without even pausing to think about them. His music pulsed through her veins and she sighed softly, knowing this was why she could never leave him. This, the music, it was what bound them together. Would always bind them. This was her Erik. Not the Phantom of the Opera.

The music came to an end and Christine sighed softly as the notes still rang through the air. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she smiled softly when she felt him relax beneath her. "Have you eaten anything?" she asked, certain that he had skipped lunch and it was now nearing supper time. Since she had been coming down here for lessons, she'd made an attempt to get him to eat regular meals although she was not always successful. She felt him shake his head and she slowly got up from the bench, reaching out her hand to him. "I'll fix something for you."

Hesitantly, he took her hand. As they walked through the corridors of his home, she noticed that he was taking great care to keep his unmasked cheek out of view. He was on her right side, keeping his face straight forward, only allowing her the view of his unmarred cheek. When they got to the kitchen, he took a seat that would keep his imperfections out of view and did not turn to watch her as he usually would have as she moved around the kitchen, making him a simple sandwich and some tea. She set the small offering down in front of him and deliberately took a seat directly across from him.

He attempted to angle his head away from her and she sighed softly, getting up and then taking a seat next to him. She grasped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Erik, there is nothing wrong with your face. It does not disgust me, I promise you. It is your face, Erik, and I love it just as much as I love you." She leaned forward, brushing a kiss to his imperfect cheek and then brushing a matching kiss to his regular cheek. Drawing back, her thumbs brushed away some of the tears that had fallen as he looked at her, awe in his eyes.

"No one has ever kissed my face before, Christine. Not even my own mother...she could not even tolerate the sight of me without my mask." His hands came up to rest over hers and he grasped them, bringing them down in front of them. He intertwined their fingers and then looked up at her, his heart in his gaze. "No one has ever touched me out of love, Christine. No one before you."

"Then I have a lifetime of loving touches to make up for, don't I?" she replied, a soft smile on her lips as she leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his marred cheek. She heard him whimper and could taste the saltiness of his tears as her lips moved over his cheek, covering it with kisses. "I love you, Erik," she breathed against the skin of his cheek. "I love you so much."

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her from her seat and onto his lap. Burying his face in her neck, his arms tightened around her waist, as if he never wanted to let go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently stroked his head, as he whispered her name over and over again against the skin of her neck. They stayed in this position for a few minutes, before Erik finally collected himself fully and pulled back, glancing up at her. "This," he gestured to his face, "is not all. There is one more thing that you should know, Christine."

Her heart stopped for a moment as her mind raced to try and figure out what he could possibly be talking about. His arms unwound from her waist and his hands went to his hair, carefully pulling off his wig. She grinned as she took in her lover, for the first time as himself. Her hand reached out to run her fingers through the messy light brown hair. His deformity continued up into his hairline on his right side, leaving it uneven. "Erik," she breathed, "you're almost blonde! Not quite such an imposing figure." She beamed at him and then leaned forward to gently kiss him. "You are still the most beautiful man I have ever known," she told him when she pulled back.

"You are an angel, Christine," he murmured, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss at the hollow of her throat. "There is no other explanation. No human could ever be this good. You must be a creature of Heaven."

She shook her head. "I'm a mere mortal, Erik. Just as you are." She turned to the table and picked up his sandwich and holding it to his lips. "And as all mortals do, you need to eat." He chuckled slightly and leaned forward to take a bite.


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: Wow, it's been awhile since I've updated this! In between finals and holidays, I realized that the next few chapters needed a bit of a tone change, so this story went through some heavy revision. Hope that the emotions and the characters ring a bit truer now, although I'm not completely satisfied with it still. Hope you enjoy!

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Madame Giry sighed as she made her way down into the cellars, towards Erik's home. It had been quite awhile since she had come down here uninvited, but felt that it was needed. Christine had returned to the surface, looking no worse for wear, and told her that everything was fine between she and Erik, that they had settled it. But something in the girl's countenance told her that all was not quite as well as she was trying to convince her surrogate mother it was. So she was seeking Erik out to get his side of the story.

She could hear music coming from the music room, giving away his position immediately. She knocked on the door, knowing that Erik with his impeccable hearing would answer. Sure enough, the music stopped and a few seconds later, the door opened. "Come in, Antoinette," he bid, moving out of the way and going to sit on the piano bench.

She entered the room and sat down on one of the two chairs that he had in the room, regarding him carefully. He seemed quite buoyant actually, which made her tread even more carefully. She knew how to deal with an Erik that was upset and angry, but a happy Erik was completely new ground for her. "Christine said that she came to speak with you."

He nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. "She did. She is such a good girl, Antoinette...you have raised her well."

Madame Giry nodded, agreeing, but refusing to detour because of his flattery. "But you realize that she is still just a girl, don't you Erik? She has matured so much in the past year, but...she is still a girl at heart. And when she came to me yesterday, she was a terrified little girl."

His jaw clenched and she knew that she was walking a very thin line. "Christine is capable of making her own decisions. She is eighteen, Antoinette. More than old enough to know her own mind."

Madame Giry levelled her gaze on Erik. "And who has shaped her mind these past ten years, Erik? She cannot deny you anything; she is terrified of losing you."

"What are you implying, Antoinette? Just come out and say it," he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. Madame Giry held back a shiver. She was intimidated; of course she was, by just this small show of anger. She could not imagine how Christine managed to keep her wits about her when faced with Erik's full temper. She was indeed stronger than Antoinette had ever given her credit for, but she was also more fragile than Erik might have realized.

"I am simply concerned for Christine, Erik. For both of you. She was frightened of you, but she is so terrified of losing you that she refuses to admit it. I am simply worried that if the two of you do not confront what happened, it will come back to haunt you," she said seriously, her lips thinning as she watched Erik get up from his position at the piano and begin to pace around the room.

"She is fine, Antoinette. We are fine! We have talked about it and we are past it now," he said, his back to her but it was obvious that he was attempting to keep his temper under control. His entire form radiated with tension.

"I will trust you, Erik. But when Christine came back up...she seemed as if she was just acting fine and was not truly fine. I want you to remember how much she relies on you...how much you mean to her. And how deeply you can hurt her."

At that, he whirled around, a fire blazing in his eyes. "I would sooner kill myself than hurt her, Antoinette. Don't you know that? She is the only woman that has ever loved me for myself and I would do anything to keep her happy."

"Erik," she murmured, getting up and placing a soft hand on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment, but took a deep breath and slowly relaxed. "I know how much Christine means to you. And you mean just as much to her. And that is why I am so concerned...I want the two of you to be happy."

Erik replied, ice in his tone, clearing signalling that their conversation was over. "Thank you for your concern, Antoinette. But I assure you that both of us are fine."

Antoinette sighed, knowing that even if they were not fine, she would not get Erik to admit it. She only hoped that she had gotten through to him in regards to her worry about Christine. She nodded and told Erik that she would see him again soon and headed back up to the surface.

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It had been two weeks since Buquet's death and the incident with Erik's mask. Christine's wrist had healed enough that it no longer needed to be bandaged. It was easier to forget all about the madness that had taken over him when the physical reminder was no longer present. The company was giving _Hannibal_ again and the next night would be_ Il Muto_. Christine had been relegated to the chorus for _Hannibal_ but, to Carlotta's great and very vocal displeasure, was playing the Countess once more in _Il_ _Muto_. She had begged Erik to stay far away from Box Five, warning him that Raoul would probably be sitting there anyway. He had bristled at the mention of the Vicomte, but made no comment. It was becoming quite common in their relationship to just sweep issues under the rug. Neither consciously acknowledged it, but both silently did it.

Christine had been rather successful at avoiding Raoul, but she knew that it could not go on forever. He was extremely persistent, and she knew that he would not leave her alone until she at least accepted his dinner invitation. She only hoped that when that time came, she could bring Meg along and hopefully play a little bit of a matchmaker.

She was sitting in her dressing room, attempting to tame her curls, when her mirror slid open and Erik stepped into the room. He was once more the Opera Ghost, in his black attire, his stark white mask, and slicked back black wig. Flinching slightly at the image he presented, she quickly shook her head and stood to greet him. She smiled and chuckled, reaching up to touch his hair, attempting to make a joke of her sudden discomfort in case he had picked up on it. "I see that you are falling back on old habits."

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her closer to him. "In case anyone was to see me. I know that, inexplicably, you like me without all this but it gives me comfort for when I move about the operahouse. And I will have to find somewhere to watch from tonight, as it has been awhile since I've had the pleasure of seeing you dance." She blushed slightly and shook her head. She knew her dancing was not the best, but Erik seemed to still enjoy it. "Although I will quite miss the sound of your voice," he murmured, his hand coming up to brush against the skin of her throat.

She whimpered slightly at his touch, arching her neck to give him more access. "I will sing for you tonight then, after the performance." Standing on her tiptoes, she braced herself against his chest as she kissed him. She wrinkled her nose slightly as their kiss deepened, annoyed at the porcelain rubbing against her skin, but knowing better than to take off the mask herself. She had promised to never remove his mask again, afraid of unleashing the fury that she tried so desperately to forget. Erik would remove the mask for her, but it was always on his terms. He was the one to remove the mask; he was the one to put it back on, she never touched it. But so far, he had taken it off every time she had asked, which was very encouraging.

His hands deftly untied her dressing gown and slipped inside, running over the bare skin that her slave costume exposed before landing on her hips. He groaned against her lips as she arched towards his touch, before stepping back slightly to break their kiss. "It drives me to the point of insanity to see you bared like this." His gaze raked over her body and then he stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her close once more. "Makes me mad with jealousy to imagine all the men out there, lusting after you. I should be the only one who gets to see you like this."

Christine chuckled breathlessly as Erik buried his face in her neck, placing gentle kisses down the column of her throat. "Don't be ridiculous, Erik. No one even looks at me while Meg is out there in the same outfit. She...fills out the costume in a way that I could only dream of." With that, she looked mournfully down at her bosom, pouting slightly.

He laughed at that, keeping one arm anchored around her waist and dragged the other up her stomach, over her side, before resting at the curve of her breast, his hand almost covering it completely. She moaned and arched towards him once more as his hand flexed, massaging her through the thin material that left little to the imagination. "You can be assured that at least one pair of eyes will never leave you," he murmured into her ear and she smiled up at him. "And for the record, I quite like your bosom just the way it is." At that she chuckled and gently pushed at his chest, turning to sit back down at her vanity.

Just then, a rather urgent sounding knock echoed through her room. "Christine? Christine, are you there?" The Vicomte de Chagny's voice rang out through the heavy wooden door and Christine froze, her gaze flying to Erik's in the mirror. Quickly, she motioned to the mirror and Erik obediently stepped through, closing it without a sound. Christine quickly tied up her dressing gown as she made her way to the door, opening it slightly.

"Raoul!" she exclaimed, hoping that she sounded sufficiently excited.

"Oh Christine, it is good to see you!" he replied enthusiastically, leaning forward to grasp both her hands and kiss both her cheeks. "Was there someone here with you? I thought I heard voices."

Christine froze slightly but quickly recovered, shaking her head. "No, Raoul. As you can see, I'm quite alone. I was just practicing some lines for tomorrow night."

He seemed to accept her explanation and smiled at her. "I have caught glimpses of you at rehearsals, but you always seem to disappear before I have a chance to speak with you. But no matter, I have your attention now!" He smiled at her and she felt her friendly facade fall a bit, replaced with genuine affection. He was still so similar to that sweet boy she had known growing up; she was the one who had changed. But he was still dear, sweet Raoul, who would run into the freezing sea to fetch her scarf. "I simply insist that you have dinner with me tonight, Little Lotte."

She sighed, glancing back briefly at the mirror, knowing that Erik was watching this entire exchange. She knew that she could not run from Raoul forever and that the more occupied he was with her, perhaps the less he would focus on finding the Phantom. The search for the mysterious Opera Ghost had seemingly consumed the managers and Raoul since Buquet's death and that worried Christine greatly. If she could help Erik escape scrutiny by attending dinner with the Vicomte, then that's what she would do. "My tutor is very strict, Raoul. You must promise to have me home by eleven thirty."

His brow furrowed at the mention of her tutor and the grasp on her hands tightened. "You are still visited by your Angel of Music?"

She nodded, her mind racing to come up with a logical explanation. Praying that Raoul truly believed in her innocence and naivety, she replied, "Of course I am, Raoul. He is my Angel. I assure you, he is not the Phantom that you and the managers keep speaking of, he's not even a man! Just a voice." She plastered an innocent smile on her face, hoping that she was playing her simpleton role with enough conviction to convince him.

He nodded, still looking suspicious, but then his face lightened and he smiled at her. "Very well then. I shall have you home by eleven thirty." He brought a hand up to his lips, gently kissing the back of it. He then turned to leave, before Christine remembered something.

"Oh Raoul!" He turned when she called to him, a smile on his face. "Would you mind terribly if I brought my friend Meg with us? She is ever so eager to meet someone who knew me as a child."

"Of course, Little Lotte! I shall see you after the performance." With that, he turned down the hallway and disappeared around a corner. Christine sighed as she closed the door, taking great care to lock it, before leaning heavily against it. The mirror slid open and she gave Erik a wan smile as he stepped out.

"I had to appease him, Erik. If I ever wish to truly become a prima donna, it would not do to upset one of the wealthiest patrons. Besides, the more time he spends with me means that he's spending less time searching for you." She sighed, pushing off from the door and walking to Erik. "Are you upset with me?" she asked wearily, just the slightest edge of fear in her voice as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He shook his head, his hands running up and down her back. "I am not upset with you, Christine." She could tell from his tone though that he was indeed upset. She sighed softly and nestled further against him, hoping to soothe him. "You have a very valid point. It's just...that young man makes my skin crawl. I do not enjoy the thought of you spending time alone with him," he muttered darkly. Christine nodded and, attempting to take his mind off of it, craned her neck slightly to place gentle kisses on his neck, his chin, and then finally his lips.

"I'm sorry, my love. I promise that I will make it up to you tonight." She winked at him and pressed her body fully against his. The dark cloud that hung over his face lifted slightly and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her briefly.

"Minx," he murmured against her lips.

She smiled and nodded, before gently pushing him away. "Of course. Now go, I need to warm up and you need to find somewhere safe," she emphasized the word and raised her eyebrows at him, "to watch from. I'll see you after dinner tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

Christine smiled and took another sip of her wine, relishing Raoul's story. She had been disappointed that Meg was unable to join her, she was visiting a close family friend with her mother that night. Worried about spending that much time alone with Raoul, Christine had pleaded with her friend, but Meg said that there was no way to get out of the engagement. But she was finding that his company was still just as enjoyable now as it had been when they were children. He was telling her a story of his from the Navy; she had no idea that he had become a sailor a few years after they had parted in Perros. He was quite a fascinating man now, though still so similar to the dashing young boy that she had known. "Oh Little Lotte," he said as he brought his story to an end, reaching across the table to grasp her hands, "it is so good to see you again. I often thought of what happened to that pretty young girl with the red scarf. Imagine my surprise when I saw you again here, on the stage!"

She blushed slightly, looking down and carefully withdrawing her hands from his touch. "Yes. Many things have changed since we were children, Raoul. This...was never what I expected. But Papa was friends with Madame Giry; he summoned her when he knew that he was dying. She took me in and practically raised me with Meg, while helping us train for our profession." She shrugged, looking back up at him. "It is not the life that I dreamed of, but it is a good living, Raoul. I do love it here. The music lives and breathes all around me here...it is all I could ever ask for."

Suddenly, his blue gaze turned serious and he grabbed one of her hands again. "Christine, you said that you are still visited by your Angel of music?"

Her heart suddenly jumped into her throat as she forced herself to remain calm. "Sometimes, yes. He gives me my lesson and helps me with all the music I have to learn. He's been especially helpful this last week with helping me memorize the part of Countess." With the hand that Raoul did not have a hold of, she took another sip of wine. Nothing that had just passed her lips was a lie, but it was not the whole truth either. She only hoped it was enough to convince Raoul.

His grip on her hand tightened, as did the knots in her stomach. "Christine, truly, I hate to be the one to dispel your notions, but I am afraid that your Angel is nothing but a man. And a dangerous one at that." He squeezed her hand and his thumb ran over her fingers, before pausing on her ring finger and rubbing up and down the soft skin, stopping at the warm golden band that encircled it. "What is this, Little Lotte?" he asked, his eyes flying down and immediately seeking out the ring that he had discovered.

She flushed and shook her head, quickly coming up with a lie. "A trinket. Meg and I found it while wandering around the operahouse one night. I thought it was quite pretty."

He chuckled, visibly relaxing. "You should wear it on a different finger. I thought that I had competition, Christine!"

She smiled softly at him. _No Raoul_, she thought to herself,_ Erik is not your competition. For I want far more from him than friendship._ "It is the only finger that it fits on. It's become a bit of a good luck charm, Raoul. I couldn't take it off now, not when I need luck more than ever! It will be hard work to win over the hearts of Paris!"

He chuckled heartily at that, releasing her hand, much to Christine's relief. "Oh Christine Daaé, I'm sure that you will have no trouble doing that!" Casually, he pulled his timepiece from his pocket and glanced at it. Looking up at her mournfully, he shook the small device carefully. "I'm afraid that my time is up. I did promise you that I would have you back home by eleven thirty and I am nothing but a man of my word!"

They both stood and Raoul threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the cost of their meal and a quite generous tip. He offered his arm and Christine didn't hesitate to take it. He had chosen a nearby cafe, so the dormitories were only a short walk. He absolutely insisted on walking her to her room, teasing her that he'd hate for her to be accosted by the dreaded Opera Ghost on her way back to her room, which she replied to with a choked laugh and grateful smile.

They arrived at her door and she made a turn to open the door, but he grabbed both of her hands, keeping her in place. He leaned forward and quickly, before Christine could move away, brushed his lips with hers. The kiss was brief and he moved away before she could protest, but she sputtered in shock as he smiled down at her. "Forgive me for being so bold, but I felt it was right."

"Monsieur, I apologize if you thought this dinner was more...romantic, but I have no such intentions towards you. You are my dear friend, Raoul, but nothing more." She spoke seriously, hoping that he would take her at her word.

But to her dismay, he chuckled and tightened his grip on her hands slightly, before letting them drop. "Oh Little Lotte, we shall see." With that, he turned and began walking down the hallway, throwing over his shoulder, "I will see you at rehearsals!"

Christine sighed heavily as she opened the door to her room. Meg was still out and not for the first time that night, Christine desperately missed the sunny presence of her best friend. She sat down on her bed, twisting a curl between her fingers out of habit as she waited for Erik's familiar knock on her door. Not even a minute later, the knock came and she practically flew to the door. Pulling Erik inside, she wrapped her arms around him and all but attacked his lips.

It was clear he was surprised but definitely not unwilling as he returned her fervent kiss. His arms wrapped around her and held her firmly against him, running up and down the silk of her dress. He pulled away slightly and Christine flinched slightly as she saw the darkness in his eyes. "The Vicomte is lucky to still be breathing, Christine," he said, as if in warning.

She nodded slightly, not knowing quite what to say to Erik's threat. "I didn't want to, Erik. He kissed me before I even realized what was going on. I never would have..." she trailed off as Erik's finger came up and gently traced her lips. "I don't want the Vicomte," she whispered, her breath dancing over the finger that rested gently on her bottom lip.

"He wants you," Erik muttered darkly, his focus still zeroed in on her lips, lips that the Vicomte had been kissing just a few moments ago. She desperately wished for Erik to kiss her, for him to see that his were the only lips that she ever wanted to know; the only lips that she wished to feel on her own. Suddenly his finger left her lips and his hand slid across her cheek, down to her neck, and into her hair, gripping her curls firmly and tilted her head back. She froze for a moment, the pose bringing back memories she was doing so well to repress. "He cannot have you, Christine," he whispered against her lips, dragging her closer.

She nodded in agreement and relaxed as he brought his lips down against hers. Moaning against his lips, she melted into his touch. This was her Erik, the man that could make her forget the rest of the world with just a kiss, the man who she loved more than anything. There was no need to fear him, he was simply being protective of her. Smiling and then winding her arms around his neck, she whimpered slightly as his tongue breached the seal of her lips, sweeping across her mouth.

Breaking apart slowly, she smiled dreamily up at him. "Take me home, Erik," she whispered, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips once more. His lips curled up in an almost grin, but it quickly faded, his features once more clouding over. He stepped away from her promptly grabbing her hand and leading her out of the room. They snuck down the hall to the secret passage, which opened with nothing more than a slight push from Erik's hand. Christine held on tightly to Erik as they descended deeper into the operahouse, the torch that he had lit gave off precious little light, hardly enough to let her feel comfortable.

The journey down to Erik's home was silent; Christine could feel the tension radiating from the man who she held onto so tightly. His grip was firm, possessive, but he refused to turn around to look at her. She breathed a sigh of relief as they entered his home, happy to be out of the darkness of the cellars and in Erik's familiar sitting room instead. He led her over to his chair, as first he sat down and she obediently sat on his lap, his arms curling around her waist.

Swallowing briefly, she turned her gaze to his mask, hoping that she would d not push him further than he wanted to go. For a moment, he simply held her gaze and she struggled not to shrink back against him at the intensity burning in his eyes. But then, he swallowed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before his hands reached up and pried off the mask. He laid it on the side table and then turned back to her, his chin down so he wouldn't meet her gaze. This was their routine now, she had the steps memorized.

She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, before tilting his chin up and then kissed first his right cheek, then his left, then his forehead. Then, she leaned back and smiled at him, keeping silent until he raised his eyes to hers. "I love you, Erik," she whispered. Some of the tension, though not all of it, faded from his body as his arms wrapped around her waist and then squeezed lightly.

He buried his face in her neck, his deformity hidden by her curls. "I love you too," he murmured against her neck, his warm breath causing her own breath to catch. Leaning back, he cleared his throat and looked up at her. "You danced beautifully tonight, my Christine." She blushed slightly and averted her gaze, until he tucked a curl behind her ear. "I take it the Vicomte enjoyed dinner?"

She shrugged, his tone practically freezing the blood in her veins. Knowing that she was treading on thin ice, she leveled her gaze at him, gathering her courage. "It was a nice dinner between friends. Even if the Vicomte thought it was more, it was not." Smiling softly and fitting her palm to his cheek in hopes of calming him, she continued, "I would have much rather been on your arm."

Growling slightly, he tightened his grip on her waist. "The boy does not even know how lucky he was tonight. To see him kiss you, Christine..." he trailed off and she suppressed a shudder at the unspoken threat, his terrifying temper hidden just below his thin facade.

"I am yours, Erik. I would have it no other way," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder, hoping to convince him that her feelings were genuine. He seemed to relax and she smiled softly to herself and then ventured a suggestion that she hoped would calm him further. "I do believe that I said I would sing for you tonight, did I not, Maestro?" she murmured playfully.

Much to her delight, his lips quirked up once more and he nodded briefly. "Indeed you did, my dear. I think that it is time that you kept your promise."

A fire glinted in his eyes and he smiled wolfishly at her, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her off into the music room. Depositing her on his piano bench, Christine grinned as he went to his desk and started rifling through the papers, obviously looking for something specific for her to sing. A few minutes later, he triumphantly held up a few sheets of paper and then came back to her.

"I just finished this, Christine. It is for my opera. I wish for you to sing Aminta's part." He set the music down in front of her and she began reading over the lyrics. Erik was watching her carefully as she examined the music, smirking in a wicked delight as she began blushing.

"Erik!" she exclaimed, picking up the music and shaking it at him. "I can't sing this! It's so...so..."

"Passionate?"

She glared at him. "Vulgar." His lips tilted up once more and he waved his hand, as if brushing off her words. Moving, he came to stand behind her as he turned her around so she was facing the piano again and snatched the music from her hands, placing it against the music holder on top of the instrument.

Leaning down, he placed both his hands on either side of her on the keys, and began playing the intro. "Feel what the music is saying, Christine. Feel the passion between Don Juan and Aminta. What could be more beautiful than finally succumbing to such a feeling?" As his fingers kept playing, he looked down at her, not needing to look at the music while he played, instead focusing on her.

Her eyes had fluttered shut and her breathing was laboured, he noticed. That flush that had spread across her cheek now enflamed her neck and chest and as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss against her neck, he noticed that it had made her skin pleasantly warm as well. She gasped, leaning back against him, as his lips trailed up and down her neck. "Sing," he commanded, his voice nothing more than a soft growl against her ear.

Immediately, her eyes snapped open and she found her entrance, her voice rising above his music, intertwining with it effortlessly. He was the one to close his eyes now, practically in ecstasy hearing Christine's voice sing from his masterpiece. And to hear her sing such passionate lyrics, singing of feelings that he knew, inexplicably, he aroused in her...it took absolutely all his self control to wait until she had finished the song to spin her around and kiss her.

She breathlessly chuckled as they broke apart, only spurred on when he raised a curious eyebrow at her. "I see that the flames are well on their way to consuming you, my love."

He growled again, burying his face in her neck once more, licking and biting at the skin there. She was certain that he was leaving marks this time around. After the events of the night, she assumed it was his way of marking her as his and she flushed with embarrassment at the thought of asking Meg for help covering them up in the coming days. Erik apparently noticed her embarrassment and chuckled darkly against her skin, leaving the soft haven of her neck to look up at her, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I do believe, my dear, that it is time you...make it up to me, I believe your phrasing was."

He straightened and held his hands out to her. She slid out from the bench and took both his hands, grinning as he all but tore down the hallway with her, not stopping until they reached the bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Notes: A shorter chapter for right now, but to make up for it, I think I'm posting a rather long chapter sometime later today as well. Depends on my schedule. I just wanted to take a moment to thank all my readers, especially the ones who leave reviews! I love hearing what you guys think and well, who doesn't like to know that their work is appreciated? ;) Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

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It had been a month since Christine and Raoul's rather ill-fated dinner date and rehearsals were in full swing for the company's next performance. Things had calmed down in both a professional and personal sense, although today seemed anything but calm as Christine slammed the door to her and Meg's room as she stalked in, positively fuming. Meg spun around from her vanity where she was playing with new styles for her hair and lifted a curious eyebrow. "Someone is in a chipper mood this evening!" she noted sarcastically.

Groaning, Christine all but collapsed onto her bed. "Rehearsals were awful. It is clear to everyone that Carlotta is ill, but she would rather risk losing her voice altogether than to let me sing her part. Raoul keeps on cornering me and asking for another dinner date..."

Meg laughed and came to sit next to her dear friend. "He is truly desperate, Christine. He's even approached me a few times! Oh, the hard life of a prima donna," she cooed, patting Christine's head. The other girl laughed and shook her hand away, fixing her gaze on Meg.

"How was practice? I have to admit, there are times where I miss the cracking of your mother's cane, counting out the beats."

Meg rolled her eyes and Christine couldn't help but giggle. "Maman is as she always is, a complete perfectionist. But she said that when we start the new season, I will become a lead dancer and have at least three solo parts in every show!"

Grasping her friend's hands, Christine beamed. "Oh Meg, that's so wonderful! You most certainly deserve it! Paris will fall on its knees for you!" The two girls grinned and giggled together, before Meg suddenly jumped up, tugging Christine along with her.

"I almost forgot! Maman told me we must go to Erik's home after you returned from rehearsals. It seems as if they finally have decided to reveal their great plan to free Erik from the managers' scrutiny!" Meg tossed Christine a shawl that was lying haphazardly across a chest and grabbed another for herself. Although Meg had travelled down to the lair, as she liked to call it, quite a few times now, she was always terribly excited to go again.

Christine led the way, trying hard to focus on the tunnels and the way to Erik's home rather than the fact that the lamp she held gave off less light than she was comfortable with. She still found it quite ironic that she continued to be afraid of the dark when her beloved seemed to thrive in it. Briefly, she wondered what they would do when they were married, if they would live in a normal house like a normal couple or if Erik would want to stay here. She shuddered briefly at the thought of the darkness closing in around her, but quickly dismissed the thought. She would be with Erik and he would protect her, as he always did. He'd never let the darkness get her.

When they reached his home, Christine listened carefully and discerned they were probably in the sitting room, so she led Meg in that direction. They entered the dimly lit room and Erik turned at once to smile at her. He quickly strode over to her as Meg went over to sit next to her mother, and gathered her into his arms. Kissing her quickly, he then asked, "How were rehearsals?"

She sighed and laughed, shaking her head. "Miserable. I just stood there following along with my libretto because Carlotta absolutely refused to let me sing, although it was more than obvious that she is ill."

He chuckled. "Perhaps we shall get lucky then and by the time that the new season's gala comes around; she will have lost her voice completely. It'd be quite a pleasant belated Christmas gift, I think."

Christine giggled, batting playfully at his chest. "What a terrible thing to say, Erik!"

He shrugged and she smiled at him. "But true, Christine. Even you cannot deny that. Now, come and sit, Madame Giry and I finally have a plan worked out that we want to share with you and Meg." She did as Erik bid and took a seat on the sofa across from the chairs that Meg and Madame Giry were occupying, beaming as Erik joined her.

Erik nodded to Madame Giry and she at once leaned forward, jumping straight into the plans. "As you girls know, the hardest thing to accomplish in the coming months will be the separation of Erik and the Opera Ghost, as they are, in actuality, the same being. But we think that we have worked out a plan. Erik will have to start making official public appearances as your fiancé, Christine." All eyes moved towards Christine at this news.

She could feel her jaw drop as she turned to Erik. "You...you want to announce our engagement? To be seen out in public?"

He shrugged, reaching over and grasping her hand. "I admit that I am not comfortable with the aspect of this plan that will force me to come into contact with people again. But if we wish for your career to continue after we are married...I cannot stay hidden forever. I will not tolerate men thinking that my wife is an available woman." Christine beamed at Erik's statements and leaned forward to brush a kiss against his one exposed cheek, before turning back to Madame Giry.

The other woman took this as a sign to continue and nodded briefly. "We decided that the perfect opportunity would be the opening gala in a month's time. Erik shall attend in an official capacity as Christine's fiancé, but the Opera Ghost will also be in attendance. And this is where the plan becomes tricky." She nodded to Erik, who straightened slightly and began to continue the explanation.

"I will be there all night at the Bal Masque as Christine's fiancé, but I shall also make an appearance as the Opera Ghost. I will be dressed in the guise of the Red Death, with a death's head that covers my entire face, rendering me unrecognizable. I have the talent of modifying my voice so I will not sound at all like the man who has been by Christine's side all night. Madame Giry and Meg will vouch for the fact that I was there all night by Christine's side, thus making it impossible for me to have been connected with the Opera Ghost in any way. At the Bal Masque, the Opera Ghost will deliver his opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, to the managers. For the rest of the season, we will make as many opportunities as possible for it to appear that the Opera Ghost and Erik are in the same place, at the same time. I will employ full usage of my little traps around the opera, as well as my talents for ventriloquism and little tricks I've acquired."

"So what part will Maman and I play in all this?" Meg piped up, her brown eyes gleaming with the more information that was revealed.

"Essentially you will assist in any...situation that may arise. This may call for delivering letters while in my presence, perhaps even pulling a few pranks of your own," Erik chuckled at the spark in Meg's eye at that bit of information, "and actually, Meg, all the shouting that you do about the Phantom of the Opera will be quite useful. Even attributing little things that I have nothing to do with would help with the fearsome Opera Ghost's reputation."

Christine pursed her lips, her brow furrowed. "All these little games and magic tricks are indeed very clever and will establish Erik and the Opera Ghost as two different entities but...what then? I don't want you to have to lead this kind of double life forever, Erik."

Erik smiled at her, squeezing her hand lightly. "This is where my opera comes in handy. Obviously, after the Bal Masque, everyone will know that _Don Juan Triumphant_ is the work of the Opera Ghost; everyone will expect him to be in attendance opening night. The Opera Ghost will kidnap Christine from the stage and her dear fiancé will follow them to rescue her. I imagine it would be quite easy to pay a man to dress like me for the night, to occupy Box Five and follow us down one of my trapdoors. There will be a large confrontation in the Opera Ghost's lair, wherein Erik will slay the Opera Ghost, throwing his body into the underground lake, never to be found by a living soul."

"And Christine and Erik emerge, free to live their lives as they see fit!" Madame Giry finished with relish, finally leaning back in satisfaction.

Meg grinned and clapped her hands excitedly. "It certainly seems like you and Maman have planned this out well, Erik. I cannot see any flaws in it!" Erik smiled at the girl's enthusiasm and then turned to Christine, expecting much of the same, only to be surprised to see her brow furrowed.

Christine noticed Erik's sudden scrutiny and tried to conjure up a smile for him. "It's just...it seems so dangerous. You wear a mask, my love, as does the Phantom. It will surely make you suspicious to those around the operahouse. And if this doesn't work perfectly...we could spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. I do not want that sort of life, Erik."

Erik grabbed her hand and gently kissed the back of it. "It will work, Christine. I promise you. We will be free from the Phantom and we will never have to look back. I would rather die than put you in danger, Christine." He leaned forward, gently cupping the back of her neck to bring her in for a soft kiss.

Meg sighed dreamily and they broke apart abruptly, Christine blushing furiously. Madame Giry just rolled her eyes and Meg smiled. "I'm sorry. It's just so romantic!" Erik chuckled as Christine's blush deepened and she buried her face in Erik's shoulder.

"Come into the kitchen, we have much still to discuss," Erik said, getting up from the couch and gesturing for the ladies to follow him. "I'll make some tea and we will go over some of the finer points of the plan."


	10. Chapter 10

Notes: Long chapter for you guys tonight! I just couldn't cut it off anywhere else without messing up the flow of the story. Hopefully this can tide you over for awhile, my semester is just starting up again and it seems like it might be a pretty heavy workload. Hope that you guys enjoy, I'll try and get another chapter up later this week.

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Christine sighed, glancing at Erik in the mirror. It was the night of the gala and she'd insisted on them getting ready together, her dressing room door securely locked. Her nerves were almost more than she could bear. She slid on her gloves as she watched him straighten the mask without the assistance of the mirror that she was seemingly hogging. "How do you get it on perfectly without the mirror?" she asked curiously.

To her great surprise, he laughed. Slowly but surely, he was becoming accustomed to the fact that another had seen his face and that she loved him in spite of it. "I am quite aware of what my face looks like, Christine. I do not need a mirror to insure that my hideousness is covered." As he spoke, she'd gotten up from her seat to stand before him, her hands curling around the lapels of his jacket.

She reached up and untied his mask, setting it aside and then leaning in to kiss him thoroughly. Leaning back, she began quaking with laughter and he looked at her, not sure whether or not to be more confused or insulted. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm not laughing at your face, darling. I promise. I was going to tell you that you are not hideous, but...oh, Erik! It's just that you look like a raccoon!" And with that she was bent over once more with giggles.

He realized that she was talking about the makeup that he had used around his eyes. The dark makeup made his eyes stand out starkly against the bone white of his mask, creating a slightly menacing air. But the effect was clearly less threatening when unmasked. To his horror, he felt himself pouting at Christine's continued laughter. Pouting! The dreaded Opera Ghost did not pout! What was Christine doing to him?

She managed to straighten once more and she schooled her features into a serious expression. "I'm sorry for laughing, Erik. You are indeed very threatening and look every inch a most striking Opera Ghost." With that she replaced his mask, taking care not to mess his wig as she tied the strings behind his head once more. Her fingers danced over the new wig, a light brown colour that was closer to his natural hair, but in the same slicked back style as his previous wigs.

"Ah, but Christine, I am not the Opera Ghost right now," Erik murmured, drawing her close and grinning at her. "I am simply your fiancé. I am not the Opera Ghost until around eleven o'clock, when I shall come back here, put on my death's head, and become the Red Death so I can deliver my opera to our dear managers."

Stepping back, she chuckled and tugged gently on his jacket. "Of course, you are correct as always. But you are still quite a handsome figure, monsieur."

He grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Giggling, her hands landed on his chest as she stumbled towards him, before blushing slightly and glancing down at her dress. "You know, Erik, I don't know why you insisted on this dress. I'll stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone else, including you, will be in black and white and I'm in this pink confection!"

Nuzzling against the soft skin of her neck, he chuckled darkly before placing a gentle kiss below her ear. "That is the point, Christine. If you are to fully usurp Carlotta's position as the prima donna, you need to start getting noticed again. And, once I appear as the Red Death, you will no longer stick out, as you say. In fact, I think we'll complement each other quite nicely."

She sighed, sobering slightly at his remark. She tugged restlessly on his suit coat. "And you are sure that this plan will work? What if someone recognizes you?" He gave her a slightly disbelieving look and glanced over to the armoire where he was keeping his Red Death costume, specifically the death's head mask. It was quite the contraption and literally took up his entire face. They looked back at each other and he had to struggle not to laugh at her rather cross look. "Fine."

He reached out a hand to her cheek and gently stroked her skin. "Don't worry, Christine. It will all work out for the best. In a few months time, we will be free to live our lives as we see fit and you will look back on this moment of worry and laugh." She smiled up at him, turning her head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand.

He moved away from her to put on his cape and she began playing with her ring, a single diamond solitaire that Erik had bought for her just last week. A part of her missed her first engagement ring, that simple gold band, but knew that it was not a traditional engagement ring and they wanted everything about this plan to be absolutely believable. She still wore the golden band, only now it was on her right hand. "If you think about it, Erik...our story is rather romantic. A secret engagement, having to hide it from everyone..."

He chuckled and moved back to her side, grasping her hands and kissing her knuckles softly. "But a secret no more, Christine." She beamed at him and then twirled away, her skirts making a most delightful swooshing noise as she did.

"Take a look, Monsieur. Your future bride! I hope that I appear satisfactory!" she teased him, playfully grabbing her mask from the nearby table and bringing it up to her face.

He chuckled and began moving towards her, a wicked gleam in his eye. She shivered slightly as he slowly came to stand in front of her, almost touching but not quite. One arm reached out and curled around her waist, bridging that last gap he'd left between them. "Oh, I assure you, Christine, you always satisfy me," he murmured right before taking her lips in a passionate kiss. Her mask dropped to the floor as she wound her arms around his neck, tugging him closer.

Meg's urgent knock sounded against the door and the two of them leapt away from each other. Erik grumbled as Christine took a moment to straighten herself and grab her mask before answering the door. "Hurry up in there! Maman says to stop kissing and get out here this instant!" Christine swung the door open and was greeted by Meg's impish grin. "Maman did not really tell you to stop kissing. I just assumed that was why you weren't opening the door." She swept into the room and grinned happily at Erik, rushing over to him to straighten his bow tie. "Quite a handsome figure, Christine. Wherever did you find him?"

Erik squirmed at Meg's blatant praise, still a bit unused to her enthusiasm, even a year after officially making her acquaintance. Christine chuckled, dragging her friend away from him. "In the cellars of the operahouse of course! And as his fiancée, it is my job to straighten his tie, Meg!" she chastised, purposefully tilting his tie out of place, only to straighten it again.

Meg laughed and curtseyed deeply, "My apologies, La Daaé." The girls collapsed in a fit of giggles again as Erik shook his head and smiled indulgently at his beloved and her dear friend, trying to figure out how the girls could be so mature one moment, hatching plans and talking strategy, and be reduced to nothing more than schoolgirls the next. "Hurry, both of you, we can't miss the grand entrance of the company!" Christine scarcely had time to grab Erik's hand before Meg was dragging them both out of the dressing room and down the hallway towards the entrance of the operahouse.

The operahouse was lavishly decorated; the company and patrons alike were dressed to the nines in their costumes. Monsieur Reyer struck up the orchestra as the company began to parade in, led by Messieurs Andre and Firmin. Carlotta and Piangi followed them, along with some of the principal dancers. Madame Giry, Christine, Meg, and Erik were all in the second wave. As they began their descent down the grand staircase, Christine gripped Erik's arm tightly and looked up at him, a nervous smile on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed lightly, doing his best to reassure her.

The grand entrance over with, the company was free to mingle. Of course, Carlotta and Piangi stole the attention of the managers, surely to make some of their "helpful" suggestions for the new season. Erik rolled his eyes and Christine smothered her laughter behind her hand. Then he turned to her and with a slight bow asked, "Mademoiselle Daaé, would you do me the honour of being my partner for the first dance?"

She grinned, taking his hand giddily. "I shall be your partner for the first dance, the last dance, and every dance in between, monsieur!" He swept her into a graceful waltz. Christine marvelled silently for a few moments at his graceful movements, it seemed as if he wasn't even thinking about the steps, like they were just coming to him, just as his music did. While she considered herself a passable dancer, she had to focus on every single step for every single dance, it was not like with Meg who lived and breathed dance. "Where did you learn to dance, Erik?" she asked breathlessly.

He shrugged. "Observation mostly. When we were younger, Madame Giry gave me a few lessons but nothing too advanced." Smiling down at her, he tugged her closer than was really necessary and she thrilled at the feeling of his warm body pressed against hers. "I just feel the music and do what it tells me to, Christine," he murmured in her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed and let him lead her around the dance floor, lost in a world of their own.

A world that was suddenly intruded on by the Vicomte, who tapped Christine on the shoulder as the waltz came to an end. "You stick out quite a bit in that gown, Little Lotte!" he exclaimed, grasping her hand and raising it slowly to his lips.

Christine smiled pleasantly and all but snatched back her hand, turning slightly to Erik. "Raoul! I'd like you to meet my fiancé," she made sure to put emphasis on the word, "Erik Durand. He's been away on business for the past few months and has only recently returned home."

Raoul puffed out his chest as he took Erik's hand, clearly sizing him up. "Monsieur Durand. Funny, Christine has never mentioned you before." It was obvious that Raoul was trying to rile up Erik, Christine noticed with dismay. The last thing they needed was a confrontation between the two of them.

Erik tilted his head slightly, placing a possessive hand on Christine's shoulder. "That's because Christine and I are very private people. I do not care to have word of my private life on the lips of every society woman in Paris." Christine smiled softly as she placed her hand on top of Erik's, making sure that her engagement ring sparkled in the light of the ballroom. Raoul's eyes widened suddenly at the bauble and he opened his mouth to say something when a shrill shriek pierced the air around them.

Erik fought the urge to cover his ears as Carlotta made her way towards them. "Our little ingénue has a betrothed?" she questioned, pushing her way past the other attendants of the ball, Piangi close on her heels. She smiled saccharinely at Christine, snatching her hand from Erik's and drawing it close for an inspection of the ring. "Oh Christine, how wonderful!" Christine was flustered as Carlotta caught her in an embrace, clearly on her best behaviour for the sake of the patrons and the rest of Paris's elite.

"Thank you, Carlotta," Christine said as sincerely as possible as the diva released her and then turned to Erik, clearly waiting to be introduced. "Erik, this is Carlotta Giudicelli, our diva. Carlotta, this is Erik Durand, my fiancé." She held back her laughter as Erik mechanically picked up Carlotta's proffered hand and brushed a kiss over the skin, his face more of a blank slate than usual.

"Oh Christine, I am so happy for you! Although," Carlotta turned to Erik, the smile on her face looking quite out of place, "I have to say that I will regret losing such a star talent, Monsieur Durand. She is simply the best understudy I've ever had!"

Erik smiled and smoothly replied, "Oh do not fear, Christine will not be leaving the Opera Populaire. I could not imagine my Angel without her music." Christine had to contain the giggles that were attempting to break free at the look of horror on Carlotta's face. Clearly she was hoping that Christine would be married and leave the operahouse. If only she knew that she was marrying the dreaded Opera Ghost, who would never even entertain the possibility of her leaving the stage!

Raoul cleared his throat slightly and Erik turned to him in surprise, as if he had forgotten that he was even there. "Well, I for one am pleased! I don't think that we hear Christine sing enough as it is!" His enthusiastic grin faded slightly as Carlotta sent him a withering glare. "No disrespect meant, of course, La Carlotta!" In response, the diva threw back her head and trotted off, her dear lapdog Piangi following along, sending glares to the small party the entire way.

Christine turned to Erik and smiled as she saw him smirking after Carlotta, a wicked gleam in his eyes. She tugged lightly on his arm and he turned to her, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. Smiling up at him, she blushed slightly as Erik leaned in to gently kiss her cheek. She turned back to Raoul and he wasn't quite fast enough to wipe the look of disgust from his face. Peering at him curiously, he quickly smiled at her, but that look stayed at the front of her consciousness. It was almost as if...he knew who Erik was.

She scoffed at her own fanciful thoughts. It was impossible! Erik had told her that this plan was fool proof; certainly Raoul could not have figured it out. "I'm parched!" she announced suddenly, a desperate urge to get away from Raoul overtaking her unexpectedly. "Erik, may we go get some punch?"

"As my diva commands," Erik replied with a slight bow of his head, a smirk on his lips.

She giggled slightly and turned to Raoul, forcing herself to smile warmly at him. "Raoul, please excuse us. I will see you later tonight!" Before he had time to protest, she grabbed onto Erik's arm and let him sweep her into the crowd. On their way to the refreshment table, they happened to walk by Meg who was surrounded with a better part of the ballet corps.

"Oh Meg, who is that handsome man on Christine's arm tonight?" One of the dancers that was close in age to Meg and Christine asked, her eyes gleaming at the prospect of new gossip in the operahouse.

"You haven't been introduced yet? Oh, I suppose Monsieur Durand has been away as of late. That, my dear friends, is Christine's fiancé!" Meg announced in a mock whisper. Christine grinned as they walked past, followed closely by the eyes of all the girls surrounding Meg. "Isn't he handsome? And he treats her like a queen!" Meg gushed and Christine had to stifle her giggles until they were out of earshot.

Erik turned to her, smiling slightly. "What has you so amused, my darling?"

"Oh nothing much, Erik," she replied. "Just hoping that you are ready for what Meg has just created. Those ballet rats will be following after you all night, hoping to steal your attentions away from me."

He chuckled heartily as he handed her a glass of punch. She eagerly took a sip and immediately her features twisted into a grimace. "Oh Erik, this punch tastes awful!"

Taking a sip of his own, he laughed and steered her over to a table. They both sat facing the dancing area and Christine took another sip of the punch, making the same face again. Erik laughed and Christine gazed at him curiously as he took a leisurely sip of his own drink. "That's because someone added alcohol to the punch, Christine."

Gasping, she quickly pushed the glass away from herself, marvelling as Erik continued to drink his. "One glass will not harm you, my dear. Although, I would recommend that you indulge in water for the rest of the night. It's better for your voice." He quickly drained the rest of his glass and his hand wrapped around hers. "Would you like me to finish yours?"

"Should you really be drinking, Erik?" she murmured lowly, her voice full of implications.

He smirked at her. "I can handle my alcohol, Christine. I assure you." She pursed her lips for a moment and then nodded her consent and he took a sip of her drink.

Meg had appeared to have finally broken away from the gaggle of ballet rats and all but collapsed into the seat next to Christine. "Good evening, Christine, Erik." She nodded to both of them, her gaze lingering on Erik slightly. "How can you drink the punch, Erik? Maman says that someone put alcohol in it, it tastes absolutely foul!"

He chuckled, taking another sip. "That's just because you girls haven't yet learned the beauties of alcohol." Fixing them with a slightly menacing look, almost an Opera Ghost expression, he continued. "And you won't be any time soon, correct?"

Christine laughed as Meg blanched and shook her head vigorously. "I'm nearly sick just watching you drink it, Erik," she declared as Christine nodded her agreement and Erik relaxed, a small smile gracing his face as he finished the last of the punch.

The rest of the night was spent quite pleasantly, filled with dancing and little conversations within the breaks. Erik was introduced to most of the company, including the managers, who seemed more than a little bit unsettled by his presence. After those particular introductions were over, Christine giggled and hit his chest lightly. "Can you please, for one moment, not be intimidating, Erik?"

He growled and swept her out onto the dance floor, away from the prying eyes of the company. "It is not my fault that our dear managers are so easily frightened, Christine." He threw a glance over her shoulder, over to where she knew the clock was and her stomach knotted as she saw a look of determination come across his features. "I need to take a brief respite from our dancing, Christine. I apologize; it seems as if something I ate did not quite agree with me tonight." He bowed slightly to her, and led her from the dance floor, over to where Meg was sitting. "If you would be so kind as to watch over my fiancée, Meg, while I am indisposed?"

Meg smiled at him and nodded, the look in her eyes clearly wishing him luck. Christine drew him close for a brief kiss, whispering against his lips, "Be careful. I love you, Erik." He nodded to her and then turned in the direction of the restrooms, although the two girls knew that there was also a secret corridor in that same hallway that lead straight to Christine's dressing room.


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but Erik's mask is like the one from the movie and then the Opera Ghost's costume is the Red Death from the stage production. There weren't any questions about it, but I thought I'd clarify just in case. Hope you guys enjoy and please remember to review!

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Meg and Christine had stayed at the table for a few more minutes before taking to the dance floor again. Christine laughed as she swung Meg around, not being able to recall when they had been able to let loose like this before. A few times, they noticed Raoul making his way towards them, and Meg would suddenly pull Christine deeper into the crowd, losing him for a few more moments.

Suddenly, the entire room fell into an eerie silence and Christine and Meg froze, their gazes meeting. The Opera Ghost had arrived.

"_Why so silent, good Messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good?_" Erik's voice washed over Christine's senses and she closed her eyes, her breathing heavy. Even altered slightly, his voice had such an effect on her. She turned to the staircase to see the Red Death, in all his glory, descending the stairs regally and looking every inch a terrifying Opera Ghost. "_Have you missed me, good Messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score, Don Juan Triumphant!_" He tossed a leather-bound volume towards the managers, which Firmin just barely caught.

Unbidden, Christine began moving towards him, unable to stay away. Meg, playing her part well, tugged on her hand and tried to pull her back, but Christine broke free of her friend's weak grip. She was unable to see his beloved face, but just hearing his voice was enough for her. Everyone else was petrified with fright as Erik began moving down the staircase, insulting members of the company and Christine had to suppress a smile. Of course he would take advantage of this moment, with all eyes on him, to insult Carlotta.

She was at the bottom of the stairs and suddenly he spun around, his death's head turned in her direction. "_And as for our star, Miss Christine Daaé._" She stayed where she was as he slowly moved down the stairs towards her, her gaze never leaving his horrid mask. "_No doubt she'll do her best. It's true her voice is good, she knows, though should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn. If pride will let her return to me, her teacher...her teacher..._" Now he was standing one step above her and she had moved as close as possible to him, drawn in by his voice.

She nearly smiled at him before remembering her role as frightened ingénue. Suddenly, he grabbed her left hand and wrenched off her engagement ring. Her gasp of shock didn't need to be faked as he shook the ring in front of her face, snarling, "_Your chains are still mine, you belong to me!_" With that he ran up the stairs and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Meg was immediately by her side and Christine did not need to fake her frightened trembling. Although she knew it was all just an act, the way that he had just looked at her had almost caused her heart to stop. Raoul was suddenly flanking her other side and together they moved Christine to a nearby table, helping her sit down. She calmed herself, taking deep breaths as Meg fetched her a glass of water. This was an act. Erik was not truly angry with her...it was all just an act.

Erik appeared only a few moments later, taking advantage of the disarray of the ballroom to quietly slip back in, and Christine sighed in relief at seeing him, back to his normal self. She launched herself into his arms and noticed with some amount of amusement, he managed to look a bit green, as if he had just been sick. Composing herself in his embrace, she quickly adopted her actress mindset, knowing the play was about to start. She felt his grip on her upper arms, pulling her away from him slightly. "What has happened, Christine?" By this time, their small group consisted of Erik, Christine, Meg, Raoul, Madame Giry, and the managers. Carlotta was off somewhere with Piangi, wailing over the Opera Ghost's insults and the rest of the guests were just attempting to recover their wits.

"Oh Monsieur Durand, it was awful! The Phantom of the Opera appeared and gave the managers his opera and then he tried to kidnap Christine!" Meg wailed, clearly relishing her role. Christine happened to catch a glimpse of Madame Giry, slightly outside the small circle formed around her, roll her eyes at her daughter's dramatics.

Raoul's eyes narrowed, his gaze settling on Erik. "Where exactly where you, Monsieur Durand? I thought I saw you leave just a few minutes before the Opera Ghost made his appearance." The managers both turned to stare at the Vicomte before turning to Erik, suspicion beginning to blossom in their eyes.

Christine immediately looked shocked and grabbed onto Erik's coat, tugging him closer to her. "My fiancé was ill, Monsieur le Vicomte."

Meg nodded eagerly. "Don't you see? The Opera Ghost probably poisoned his drink or his food and then watched until he left. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance of getting Christine if Monsieur Durand was around!" The group murmured their agreement and Erik made a mental note to later praise Meg's quick thinking. The girl would be quite an asset in the coming months.

Christine nodded, her eyes suddenly wide with fear. "I'm just thankful that Erik is in such good health, or else the poison probably would have had him indisposed for much longer. I'm sure that was the Ghost's intention...he will stop at nothing to possess me again." She was quite proud of her acting skills, channeling that brief moment of panic and fear into real tears and a crack in her voice. Erik immediately wrapped his arms around her and she buried herself in his embrace, both happy to have a small break in her role and the reassurance that Erik was the one standing with her.

The managers eagerly voiced their agreement to Meg's theory, despite Raoul's noticeable dissent. They quickly left to play damage control with the important patrons, hoping to still salvage the night. Raoul cast a suspicious glance to Erik, still holding Christine, but quickly fled as he was met with Erik's intense glare. Erik helped Christine sit down at the table once more and took the seat next to her. Meg and her mother sat down across from them, Madame Giry reaching over to give Christine a glass of water.

"My poor Christine," Erik murmured, cupping her cheek. "Tormented by that dreadful Opera Ghost." Christine had to bite her bottom lip to cease a nervous chuckle at Erik's dramatics, managing to hold his hand to her cheek and nodding.

"Oh darling, I am so glad that you are alright. I don't know what I would have done if he had carried me off to his lair again. I think that he intends for me to star in his opera. Oh Erik...I am so frightened!" she wailed, indulging in her role as best she could. She was aware that many eyes were still on her, she had to keep up their facade for this to work.

"I won't let him get to you, Christine. I will protect you," he murmured, the sincerity in his eyes making her breath catch in her throat. She was suddenly so overwhelmed with love for him that she tugged on the lapels of his coat and met his lips with hers.

They broke apart after only a few seconds and he smiled softly at her, his fingers twining in her curls. "Do not fear, Monsieur Durand," Madame Giry spoke up, causing all sets of eyes to turn to her, "I will watch over Christine. She will not be alone from now on."

Erik nodded, nearly smiling at the older woman. "I very much appreciate it, Madame Giry."

Christine did not dance with Erik for the rest of the night and they managed to slip away to her dressing room at about ten minutes to midnight, both of them claiming that the night's activities had worn them out. Conveniently, it also meant that they avoided the public unmasking, which took place at the start of the New Year. They travelled silently through the corridors of the operahouse, taking care to not disturb any couples engaged in various activities throughout their journey.

Finally, they were within the inner sanctum of Christine's dressing room, just as the sounds of counting down began to filter through the air. Christine smiled and stepped forward, carefully untying Erik's mask and laying it on a nearby table. At the stroke of midnight, cheers rang out throughout the operahouse and Christine smiled, tugging down Erik's head for the traditional kiss.

They separated after a few kisses, Erik smiling fondly down at Christine. "Happy new year, my sweet Christine."

She returned his smile, tugging him down again, brushing her lips against his as she replied. "Happy new year, my love."


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: A little bit of a filler chapter before we get on with more plot. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update as this semester is already insane and...I actually still have to write the ending. So! Hopefully I won't keep you guys waiting too long. Also, there's more hints of Meg/Raoul in this chapter...honestly, as I was writing, I sort of forgot that I meant to have them be a secondary story line...maybe I'll have a few chapters/moments between them, but I'm not sure how in depth it'll be. So it's either just a little running joke between them or it's Meg's subtle way of telling Christine...I'll leave it to your discretion. Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for sharing your thoughts with me on this story!

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Meg laughed as she braided Christine's unruly hair. "I was almost sick last night at your and Erik's display. I know that you two are madly in love, but you were so...disgusting!" She giggled as Christine attempted to swat at her but Meg danced out of the line of fire. Christine had showed up in their room earlier that afternoon and since the company had the day off, they decided to stay in and have a day to themselves.

"We have to convince everyone that we are madly in love and that Erik would be willing to do anything for me. We have to be disgusting. Trust me, Meg, I was nearly sick myself. But it was a little bit fun, I have to admit." The night spent with Erik had erased any memory of that brief moment of fear that had attacked her, standing on the steps last night at the Bal Masque before the Opera Ghost. She giggled now at the memory of the night, of the show that she and her little family had put on for the rest of the opera house. Christine settled back into position and allowed Meg to start braiding again.

"The Vicomte seemed to positively seethe with jealousy, Christine. You know...I have talked to him a few times and I'm sure that I could take his mind off the Opera Ghost..." Meg trailed off and Christine twisted slightly to see the wicked gleam in her friend's eye. She swatted at her again, this time striking her arm and Meg yelped in surprise. "I'm just saying that it would probably be helpful to you and Erik if the Vicomte was not so...focused."

"You, Meg Giry, are absolutely incorrigible!" Meg laughed, patting her lightly on the shoulder and Christine smiled, lapsing into a silence. She was soothed by the feeling of Meg braiding her hair; it had been so long since she had had time to relax like this. "I'm frightened, Meg," she whispered.

Her friend paused for a moment and laid her hand on Christine's shoulder once more, squeezing lightly before returning to her task. "Of what?"

Christine brought her knees to her chest, hugging them close. "What if this doesn't work? What if...what if someone finds out who Erik truly is and...what if they take him away? I don't think I could bear it, Meg."

"Erik is the smartest man I've ever known, Christine. He and Maman have planned this out very carefully...he knows what he's doing." She quickly tied off the braid with a piece of ribbon sitting beside her and then slid to the floor beside Christine, leaning her head against her friend's shoulder. "Do not be afraid, Christine. Erik can outsmart anyone. This plan will work and soon you and Erik will be married and have nothing to fear."

Christine smiled down at the blonde head resting on her shoulder, and then tilted her own head so it was resting atop Meg's. "Thank you, Meg."

"Any time, Christine. You may repay me by being my maid of honour at my wedding to the Vicomte. Or perhaps by then, you'll be a matron," she said matter-of-factly and Christine couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Christine sighed, wearily flipping her libretto back to the beginning of the scene. She glanced over at the clock on his mantle, checking the time and then double checking it because she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Setting the large volume down on a nearby table with a loud thump, Erik glanced up at her, startled, as she put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Erik, we have been rehearsing this single scene for the past two hours. My voice is becoming hoarse and my hands are asleep from holding my libretto in the same position. May we please break for the night?"

Erik quickly glanced at the clock, eyes widening in shock when he saw that what Christine had said was indeed right. He quickly put his score back in order, setting it off to the side of his piano. "My apologies, Christine. You know how I get when it comes to my music. It has to be perfect." His gaze shot up to her and he smiled, rising from his seat at the piano and reaching out his hand to stroke her cheek. "Hearing you sing my music...it is beyond my wildest dreams, Christine."

She turned her head to the side, gently kissing his palm. "So my voice pleased you, then? Is that why you had me sing that aria over and over and over again?" She smiled impishly at him as he growled and reached down for her hand, intertwining their fingers. Tugging her out of the music room and towards the bedroom, Christine giggled and attempted to keep up with his long strides, stumbling slightly as his pace picked up even more.

Finally, Erik turned around and in one fell swoop, scooped Christine up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way to his bedroom. She giggled as he tossed her onto the bed and he just shook his head at her mirth. He moved fluidly on top of her, his hands moving to her temples and smoothing away some of her curls that had fallen in her face.

"Monsieur, I feel that you are taking advantage of me!" she exclaimed playfully, dramatically throwing an arm out to the side and bringing the other one up to rest against her forehead. "You make me sing till I am near exhaustion and now you throw me on your bed, with clear intent to ravish me, and you know that I am too weak to resist!"

He chuckled, leaning forward to place gentle kisses down her throat. "I never showed any intent to _ravish _you, my dear Christine. In fact, I was planning on just retiring...but now that you've mentioned it..."

She laughed; running her fingers through his hair, indulging in the fact that she was laying in Erik's arms right now, not the Opera Ghost's and replied, "Are you implying that I tempted you, monsieur?" His laughter rumbled against the skin of her neck and she smiled, indulging in this stolen moment. They were starting to come few and far between, with the chaos that the impending opera had been causing in their lives. She was seized with doubt once more, a doubt that had been plaguing her since they began this charade, afraid that the time would come when they would never again have these moments to themselves. "Erik, promise me that everything will be fine."

"Christine," he said, moving slightly so that he could look at her properly. "How many times must I tell you? This plan will work. We will succeed and this time next year we will be blissfully happy and married." She bit her lip and nodded, doubt still clouding her eyes. "Christine," he murmured, stroking her hair, "do you trust me?"

She nodded fervently, without any hesitation. "Yes Erik. With every fibre of my being."

"Then trust me in this. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Christine Daaé, and I will not lose you. I will fight for you...our story is not a tragedy, Christine. I will not allow it to be." He leant down and gently kissed her, attempting to allay her fears.

Christine smiled up at him and reached up to caress his face. Her touch on his ruined right side was still so precious to him; he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I love you, Erik," she murmured.

"I love you too, Christine."


	13. Chapter 13

Notes: Another pretty short chapter, but getting back into plot-type things. Hope that you guys enjoy!

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A week later, the company was fully immersed in rehearsals for _Don Juan Triumphant_. They were in the middle of rehearsing a particularly difficult melodic line, so difficult to perfect in fact, that it had the entire auditorium cringing each time the company performed it wrong. Christine sighed, flipping her libretto to the start of the scene once more, glancing up at Carlotta and Piangi. They were the main problems; they refused to actually read the score in front of them, instead adding in their own timing and notes, occasionally even lyrics, which threw the rest of the parts completely off. Carlotta had insisted on singing Aminta's part, despite the fact that the notes that the Phantom had left specifically placed Christine in the role. Erik assured her that by opening night she would be singing in her rightful spot, though he had yet to reveal how he intended on accomplishing that feat.

Just then, Madame Giry approached Monsieur Reyer with an all too familiar note and Christine had to work to suppress her smile, knowing that more than likely, soon all eyes would be on her. The conductor read through the note once and nodded, turning to the cast. "The Opera Ghost requests that you all stay at rehearsal until all parts are properly sung. He will not tolerate laziness while you learn his opera." He winced slightly as he relayed the next part of the note, "He also mentions that Mademoiselle Daaé has sung it perfectly the last two times and it is not even her rightful part."

Carlotta scoffed and turned to Piangi. "Rightful part! The only reason the Phantom gave her Aminta is because she is his whore!" she mock-whispered and much to her shame, Christine found herself blushing. With a smug grin, Carlotta slammed her libretto shut and declared, "Rehearsal is over, we will be returning tomorrow!"

Suddenly there was an odd whistling noise and out of nowhere, a sandbag flew down from the flies, narrowly missing Carlotta's head and slamming against a wall on the other side of the stage. The ballet rats immediately starting screaming about the Phantom, with Meg's voice sounding more panicked than all the rest. Christine quickly bit her lip and looked around, hoping that she looked sufficiently frightened. She felt Madame Giry's arm around her and smiled as the older woman thumped her cane a few times, bringing the company back to a semblance of quiet. "See what happens when we disobey the Opera Ghost? He is always here, watching us. I suggest that we do our jobs correctly and he will not bother us." She squeezed Christine's waist gently and whispered, "You are doing well, my dear," before going back to her girls.

Rehearsal ran much smoother when it started again, as everyone suddenly had refocused on the music. Even Carlotta and Piangi sounded decent. Christine smiled to herself as she caught movement towards the back of the theatre and saw Erik striding down the aisle, taking a seat in the front row to watch her. Much to her chagrin, she also noticed that at some point, Raoul had snuck in as well and was in deep conversation with the managers.

Monsieur Reyer finally called an end to rehearsal, after having gone correctly through the difficult passage twice with the cast. Christine smiled as she quickly ran off the stage and greeted Erik with a cheery kiss on the cheek. "Did you enjoy rehearsal?" she asked, smiling deviously.

He chuckled and nodded. "Very much so, my dear. But why were you so late?"

Meg ran up to them just then, her eyes bright with excitement. Her mother followed closely behind. "The Opera Ghost was unhappy with the way that rehearsal was progressing. He nearly took off Carlotta's head!"

Erik's eyes gleamed and Christine resisted the urge to elbow him. "Did he now? That would have been quite the tragedy!"

"Indeed," the reply came from outside their little group of four and immediately Erik's arm wrapped tightly around Christine's waist, urging her closer to his side. Raoul had spoken and he was now standing close to them, flanked by the two managers. "Christine, we must speak with you." He cast a suspicious glance to Erik. "Alone."

Erik's grip tightened and she immediately shook her head. "Anything that you need to say to me, you may say in front of my fiancé. I have no secrets from him, messieurs." The Girys had respectfully stepped back, leaving them to their conversation.

Monsieur Firmin began. "We have developed a plan to cease the Phantom's reign of terror, Mademoiselle Daaé, but we fear...we fear that for it to work, you must agree to help us...put yourself in the line of fire."

She clutched Erik's hand that was not wrapped around her waist and nodded for him to continue. "You see, we plan to capture him on opening night, but we will need you to identify him for us. The Vicomte tells me that he suspects your tutor is the man that we are after?"

Christine nodded, glancing to Raoul who looked quite grim. "Yes, that is what he has told me. That is what Erik suspects as well." The brief glare that Raoul shot Erik did not escape her notice.

Monsieur Andre took over from there. "We will need you to identify him. After you have done so, he will be taken in by the authorities. We only have a passing acquaintance with him, obviously, but you are the only one who could accurately identify the man who has been plaguing the opera house."

Christine swallowed and looked briefly to Erik, who gave a soft nod of encouragement. "What would you have me do, messieurs?"

This time, Raoul stepped in, taking up the explanation. "You will act...essentially as bait, Christine. You will sing the part of Aminta, as the Ghost intended, and we think that you will be able to lure him out of hiding. Once you have identified him using a code we will agree upon, we will take him. You need never fear him again."

"I...I can't. I cannot face him again!" She turned to Erik, burying her face in his chest, before looking up at him, clutching wildly at his waistcoat. "I'm frightened, Erik! He'll take me, I know! We'll be parted forever...he won't let me go."

Erik drew her close as she cried quietly, his chest swelling with a secret pride at Christine's superb acting. He pushed her back slightly, so that she would meet his gaze. "Christine, if you do not do this, if you do not help capture him, he will haunt us till we're dead. We would never rest, Christine, without wondering if he is lurking over our shoulders. You must do this for our future." Every word rang true, just not in the way that the managers understood.

After a moment, Christine nodded slowly, turning to face the other men, a new strength in her eyes. "I will do it, messieurs. Now if you will excuse us, it has been a long and trying day, I simply wish to go for supper with Monsieur Durand." The managers nodded and excused themselves, but Raoul lingered.

"I am sorry for putting you in this position, Little Lotte. But it is the only way that you can be free of this man that haunts you," he told her gravely, his eyes every so often darting to Erik.

Christine smiled at him and stepped forward, taking his hands, determined to get his focus away from the true Opera Ghost. "Thank you for your concern, Raoul. But as you said, it must be done." She gently kissed him on the cheek and then stepped back, into Erik's waiting embrace. "Good night, Raoul," she murmured, sincerely, but firmly, turning with Erik to leave.

Once they were in the safety of her dressing room, Christine let her shields fall. "Do you think he suspects?" she asked worriedly from behind her dressing screen, changing into one of her regular gowns.

Erik scoffed from his position on her chaise lounge. "I doubt it, Christine. That would require too much thinking."

Christine came out from behind the screen and shot Erik a dirty look before turning, presenting the back of her unbuttoned dress, silently asking for his assistance. Without a word, he got up and walked over to her, beginning to button up the dress as she spoke again. "I am glad that I got back the part of Aminta with no further interference from the Ghost. Although, your aim was impressive today."

Erik chuckled as he buttoned the last of the buttons and kissed the back of her neck through the soft cotton. "Thank you, darling, I did try." Christine laughed as she turned and latched onto Erik's proffered arm. "Shall we go see if the Girys are ready for dinner?" She nodded eagerly and followed him out of the dressing room, determined to forget about her worries, if only for the night.


	14. Chapter 14

Notes: A lot of people have been asking why people aren't more suspicious of Erik. They are definitely a bit leery of him, but basically are too dumb to put two and two together. But Erik's been on his best behaviour and with the Girys and Christine vouching for him, more people are willing to believe them. Also, no one has really ever seen the Opera Ghost, they've just heard Buquet's stories, so technically, they're expecting a living corpse with yellow skin and no nose. Hope that maybe clears some stuff up!

Bit of a longer chapter and plotty things happen! Hope you guys enjoy and please remember to review!

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Christine sighed as she looked out at the familiar landscape. She'd let Erik know that she wanted to go to her father's grave and he had somehow commissioned a carriage for her, which he was now steering in the direction of the cemetery. They were only three weeks away from the opening of the opera and the stress of the plan was beginning to weigh on her.

She chuckled slightly, staring down at the bouquet of flowers she had bought from a little stand outside the opera house before they left. Which plan was the one causing her stress? The one concocted by the managers and Raoul or the one concocted by Erik to elude the other plan? He had assured Christine that there was a man who ran certain errands for him, errands that Madame Giry could not or would not run, who would dress up as him the night of the performance and follow them down one of the traps on stage. From there he would shed his disguise and leave the opera house, in the midst of the mass exodus that would surely take place.

She and Erik would remain in his home in the cellars for a few hours to insure that their stories were exactly the same and then emerge, the victors of a fight with the Opera Ghost. No one would question or interfere and they would be free to marry without any shadows of the past hanging over their heads.

But she knew that things so complicated rarely went as planned. Erik imagined that there would be people out looking for them after he would take her from the stage and had assured her that there was no way that anyone could find his home. But what if someone got lucky, got past the traps, and saw that there was no Opera Ghost; there was only Christine and Erik? What would happen then?

The carriage came to a slow stop and she blinked slowly, coming back to her surroundings. Erik had opened the carriage door and was holding a hand out for her, obviously waiting for her to exit. He peered into the carriage curiously. "Alright, mon ange?"

She laughed, though it sounded strained and nodded, immediately taking his hand. "Of course, Erik. My thoughts just...got the better of me, I suppose." She stepped out into the dreary gray morning and turned to Erik, getting up on her tip-toes to gently kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Erik nodded. "I will be here with the carriage when you are ready to return, Christine."

Her head bobbed in understanding and then she turned towards the direction of her father's tomb. It was a short walk, but she liked to take a meandering path, giving her time alone in the quiet and solitude of the graveyard to sort through her thoughts. She felt connected to her dear Papa here and she hoped that perhaps he could help her realize what she needed to do to survive this.

Sitting down on the steps leading up to his tomb, she sighed heavily. "Oh Papa...I wish you were here to help guide me. Erik tries to reassure me that this plan will work...that we will be free to live our lives as we see fit. Oh but, Papa, I have this horrible feeling that it will all go terribly wrong...and I could not bear that. I second guess everything I do, everything I say..." She rose up from her seat and climbed up towards the gate of the tomb. Leaning her forehead against the cold iron bars, she sniffled, attempting to hold back her tears. "I'm so frightened, Papa."

There was a quiet noise of triumph from off to her left and Christine jumped, immediately turning to the sound. Raoul came out from behind a tombstone and flew up the stairs, catching Christine in an unexpected embrace. "I knew that you were frightened of him, Little Lotte!" he said as he held her tighter, Christine too much in shock to protest.

"Raoul...Raoul! What are you doing here? Why were you eavesdropping on me?" She pushed him away as soon as she regained her equilibrium, shaking her head in confusion.

"Christine, shh, it's alright," he attempted to embrace her again, but she stepped out of his reach, still shaking her head. "I overheard Meg telling one of the dancers that you had taken the morning off to come visit your father's grave. I thought this would be the best chance to talk to you without that monster," he practically spit out the word, "you call your fiancé. You don't have to explain to me, Christine. I know everything."

"Monster!" Christine sputtered, stepping even further away from Raoul. "I assure you, Monsieur le Vicomte, you are mistaken, Erik is no monster. He is my fiancé and I love him very much!" She looked around wildly for Erik, wondering if he was hearing all of this.

"It's alright, Christine," Raoul murmured again, although Christine was uncertain as to how exactly this could be alright when he was calling the man that she loved a monster. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment and then suddenly brought out a folded piece of paper, handing it over to her. "I had been making inquiries into the Opera Ghost right after he took you, that same night we were reunited. Joseph Buquet gave me that," he said as Christine unfolded it. She gasped as she looked on the picture, shaking her head silently. At the top of the drawing was scrawled "Opera Ghost" and the picture very clearly depicted Erik, in all his glory. At the bottom right hand corner was "As seen by Joseph Buquet, 20 May 1870".

"I know that he's put you under some spell, Christine. But you needn't be frightened of him now. When we get back to the opera house, I can show this to the authorities, it will give them motive for the Phantom in Buquet's death and then you can direct them to his dwelling." Christine's hand that clutched the picture began to shake and she violently shook her head, denying him.

"No, Raoul, no," she muttered, attempting to get away from him, but he grabbed a hold of her wrist, the wrist that she had sprained months before. "You don't understand. This isn't...he's not...It's not Erik! It's not!" she shouted, desperately looking around now for her beloved, desperate to get away from the Vicomte and his prying eyes. "Let go of me, Raoul! Let go!" she shrieked, her wrist aching as she attempted to pull away from him. But that didn't matter now; all that mattered was getting back to Erik.

Suddenly, a dark figure stepped in between her and Raoul, who abruptly let go of her wrist and Christine breathed a sigh of relief, cradling the bruised limb to her chest. "I suggest that you step away from my fiancée, Vicomte," Erik spat out the title as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue. "I do not appreciate people spreading lies about me, especially to those that I hold dearly."

Raoul squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, attempting his best to look threatening. "I know that you have Christine under some spell. Release her and turn yourself in and perhaps you will not be sent to the gallows!"

"I have no reason to fear the gallows, Vicomte, and Christine willingly comes to me, you can ask her yourself. Or are you frightened that your pride would be too damaged?" Christine could only see Erik's back, but at his dark chuckle, she could imagine his smirk. His hand twitched at his side, towards the sword that she had only just now noticed. She recognized it as a prop from the storage room, but Raoul did not know that. What Raoul also didn't know was that the prop sword was also just a distraction from Erik's true weapon, his deadly Lasso. Not all of Joseph Buquet's stories about him were untrue...

Her eyes widened as she read Erik's intentions in his stance and she quickly stepped out from behind him and threw herself between the two men. "Stop!" she cried out. Turning desperately to Erik, she froze as she saw the Opera Ghost in his eyes as he stared down Raoul. Shaking, she raised a hand to his cheek, desperate to bring back her Erik. It took a moment, but suddenly his gaze softened as he looked down at her. She sighed in relief and then continued, "Erik, please. Take me home. I can't be here anymore."

"Of course, Christine," he murmured, raising his gaze to the Vicomte again. "If you follow us, boy, you will regret it," he snarled, before swinging his cloak around Christine and leading her away.

He hurried her back to the carriage, making sure that she was safely inside before jumping onto the driver's perch and urging the horses to move as fast as they safely could. They made it back to the opera house in record time and he quickly ushered her through the Rue Scribe entrance to his home, making sure that no one was following them.

A knot of dread began forming in the pit of Christine's stomach, she could tell from Erik's movements that he was upset and although she knew that she was not the cause, she could not help but fear his reaction. They were safely barricaded within his home and Erik turned to her after taking off his mask and held his hand out for the drawing. She gladly handed it over to him.

He examined it for a moment and then tore it up into little pieces, throwing it into the fire. Christine breathed a sigh of relief, the one piece of evidence that Raoul had against Erik was gone forever now, but her relief was short-lived as she glanced up at Erik to see him glowering at the wall.

"That boy! That wretched boy, pompous enough to think that the only reason you deny him is because I have you under a spell! Because no one could ever love Erik when offered a Vicomte! Thinks he can ruin my plans, best me?" Erik laughed, sending a chill down Christine's spine. Something about the way he was acting reminding her of something...of the morning that she had callously ripped away his mask... "Best the Opera Ghost? Let him challenge me and see who wins! I would have my lasso around his neck in moments."

He suddenly turned and reached for her, but she yelped and jumped back. His face, red with anger before, suddenly drained of colour so he looked as white as the mask that was lying on the table. "Did you just...recoil from me, Christine?" he asked softly, the pain in his voice so obvious.

She moved forward and tried to placate him but he danced away from her touch, refusing to break his gaze. "Erik, I didn't mean to-"

He cut her off, "But you did. You...you are frightened of me, Christine. I can see it in your eyes. It is written all over your face." His eyes fell to her arm, covered by cloth, but he knew that the Vicomte's hand had left bruises. "I just...wanted to ask how your wrist was. That was what had alerted me to the Vicomte's presence, were your cries...And you turn from me in fear."

It was obvious that cogs were turning in Erik's head, but Christine was not quite privy to the exact workings. "Erik," she attempted to catch his attention, to explain, but he waved her off.

"Go back to the surface, Christine. It is almost time for rehearsal," he told her coldly. She wasn't sure what time it was, but was almost certain that she had more than enough time to make it to rehearsal. She was about to protest when Erik turned from her and began stalking into the recesses of his home. "Go!" he howled. "Go, Christine, leave me!"

She knew better than to push Erik when he was in a mood like this, so she turned and began to head back up to the surface as she heard Erik sit down at his organ. He began pounding out a violent melody and Christine had to choke back a sob. Every bit of Erik's pain filled the music that surrounded her as she retreated from him, tearing her heart to shreds. By the time that she made it up to her room, the music had faded, but it seemed like she could still hear it. Erik's pain still echoed in her head.

She entered the room, silent tears streaming down her face. Meg immediately came to her side, wrapping her up in an embrace. "Christine, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, burying her head in Meg's shoulder. "Oh Meg, everything has gone wrong...Raoul was waiting for me at the graveyard. He tried to get me to run away with him and then Erik came and we escaped." She sniffled and shook her head, clutching at Meg. "And down in his home, Erik was so angry and he turned to me and I...recoiled from him. He had reached for me and...it suddenly reminded me of that day when I took his mask. I had tried to forget about it...I thought that it didn't bother me; I always knew he had a temper, but...I know he wasn't trying to scare me, Meg. But...he did. And he didn't give me a chance to explain..." She trailed off, her voice choked with tears.

Meg squeezed her tightly, moving a hand up to stroke her hair gently as Christine leaned against her. "It will be fine, Christine. Give him time. You two will get through this. He is your soul mate, Christine." The other girl nodded miserably and buried her head against Meg's shoulder once more, crying quietly.


	15. Chapter 15

Notes: New chapter! Sorry, it's a bit short again, but it's just where the story naturally breaks up. I should be able to post the next chapter within a few days though, so hopefully you won't have to wait long. Thanks so much for all of your kind reviews, I love hearing what my readers think! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

It had been a week since Christine had left Erik's lair and Meg was growing increasingly worried about her friend. Christine would hardly eat, she seemed to never sleep, and spent all her free time in the chapel. Tonight, she had returned from rehearsal with dark circles under her eyes, her voice raspy as if she had been crying for hours beforehand. She had refused to come down to dinner with Meg, no matter how much she begged. "Christine, you must eat something. Your costumes will fall off you if you lose any more weight!"

Christine just shook her head slightly. "I am not hungry, Meg."

Meg sat next to her, grasping her hand. "Christine, Erik would not want you to be like this."

Christine's eyes hardened as she snatched back her hand. "Erik does not care for me any longer, Meg. He does not care if I wither away from starvation."

"Is that your plan? Die from starvation to spite Erik?" Meg asked accusingly, to which Christine refused to reply with anything other than a thinning of her lips. "How can you say such a thing, Christine? Of course he still cares for you! I have never seen a man more devoted than Erik! And you are still his fiancée; you still wear his ring, although I wonder how it has not fallen off your skinny little finger yet."

Christine's eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her hands, the gold band sitting sadly on her right hand, her left still bereft of the diamond solitaire the "Opera Ghost" had taken from her. Meg nearly didn't hear her when she finally spoke, her voice was so soft and weak. "Meg...he has blocked off all the entrances to his home."

Instantly, Meg's curiosity was piqued. This was the first that she had heard about this, she had just assumed that Christine was being stubborn and refused to go down and see him. "What?"

Wiping away a few tears that had managed to fall, Christine's voice trembled as she elaborated. "He's either somehow jammed the various mechanisms that open up the trapdoors or he's removed all the torches from the sconces. He knows that I don't have a candle that would last me for the trip down to his home...and he knows that I am too cowardly to descend without light..." She burst into tears, collapsing into Meg's open arms. "He doesn't want me anymore, Meg! That's the only possible explanation. Erik no longer loves me, while every beat of my heart cries out for him!"

"Oh Christine," she murmured, holding her friend tighter and stroking her back as she cried. "I am certain that Erik loves you still. He loves you more than anything, you know that, Christine! There must be an explanation."

Christine shook her head miserably, wiping at her tears. "You didn't hear his music when I left, Meg...it was like...being dragged over broken glass. His pain...I hurt him so badly."

"He frightened you! You shouldn't have to apologize for an instinct, Christine..." Meg murmured, a plan forming in her head. "I will speak to him," she said determinedly. Christine raised an eyebrow curiously and Meg squared her shoulders, nodding. "Maman will know how to get in touch with him, no matter how obstinate he is being. I will speak to him. We will sort this out, Christine." She reached forward and cupped her friend's cheek. "I promise."

"Oh Meg," Christine gasped, grabbing her friend's free hand, "I hope that you are right. I don't know what to do without him..." Meg smiled sadly at her friend as she began to cry again, before standing up and tugging her into a standing position as well.

"Come, Christine," she said, wiping at the other girl's tears, "We will go down and eat dinner. Afterward, you will come up here and sleep and I will go talk to Maman about how to contact Erik. All will be right again before the start of the new week." Meg smiled broadly at Christine and Christine replied with a weak smile of her own.

* * *

Meg paced back and forth in the small opera box. She had told her mother that she had to speak with Erik and just this morning was assured that he would meet with her today in Box Five after rehearsals. Except rehearsals had ended fifteen minutes ago and there was still no sign of her friend's fiancé...

"Mademoiselle Giry," Erik said from behind her and Meg had to swallow a scream at his unexpected appearance. She quickly spun around and wondered at where exactly he had come from, but resisted asking him. There would be time to question his little Opera Ghost tricks later. Now, she was concerned about Christine.

"Monsieur Durand," she responded curtly, curtsying slightly. "I've come to talk to you about Christine."

He tensed immediately, although he must have known that it was coming. What else would Meg want to speak with him about, especially this urgently? "Is she well?" he asked cautiously, as if trying to conceal how much he truly cared, but Meg could hear the slight waver in his voice.

"You've seen her, I'm sure. You tell me, Erik. Do you think that she's alright?" She fixed him with a glare that he refused to meet, looking away to the corner of the box. "You have seen her, haven't you? She says that she feels you sometimes." He nodded slightly, as if ashamed and Meg huffed, crossing her arms. "So you've seen how she rarely eats anymore, how she almost never sleeps...how she spends her nights crying? You've seen all that and yet you still stay away?"

He shook his head, still refusing to meet her gaze. "She is better off without me, Meg."

"How can you say that, Erik? She is literally wasting away in front of me, all because you refuse to see her! She told me that you took all the torches from the entrances that she knows about. I never thought you would do something so cowardly, Erik." He glanced up at her and for a moment she saw a flash of the Opera Ghost in his eyes and wondered what in the world she was thinking in taunting him like that. But it quickly faded to something akin to guilt and he looked away once more.

"It may be cowardly, but you did not see her, Meg. She was terrified of me. She thinks that she loves me still, but...she deserves better. She deserves a man, not a monster who she's always secretly afraid of."

Meg shook her head and finally took a step forward towards him, swatting his arm. He glanced up at her in alarm, too taken by surprise to remember not to make eye contact with her. "You fool. I am terrified of Maman more times in a day than I can count, but that does not mean that I love her any less. Christine is miserable without you, Erik. I know that you can see it. And you are miserable without her, that much is painfully obvious." She bit her lip and decided to go for the point that would hit home with Erik. "She doesn't sing anymore, Erik. Have you noticed? She's told Monsieur Reyer she is sick and cannot sing but she's told me that it just feels like the notes get stuck in her throat and she cannot get them to come out."

He let out a gasp that almost sounded like a choked sob and Meg felt a stab of regret for causing him this pain. But if this is what it took for him to see his wrongs, then she would do it. For Christine's sake. "She is in agony without you, Erik. And if you don't do something, she will simply just...wither away. She did not go to rehearsal today, so I left her in our room; I imagine that she's still there. If you have any love for her at all, as you've so claimed for the last year, then I suggest that you go to her."

She walked past him, to the door of the box. "She loves you, Erik. Completely. You will never find a woman better than Christine and I suggest you remember that before you throw this all away." With that, she walked out of the box, praying to God that he would heed her words. For both his sake and Christine's.


	16. Chapter 16

Notes: Not really sure if I'm fully pleased with this chapter, but I felt like I should get it out there anyway. :) Thanks so much for all your awesome reviews!

And a shameless plug here, in case this chapter isn't fluffy enough for you, I have a one-shot posted that will give you cavities when you read it! Erik+Children+Playtime=Guaranteed adorableness.

* * *

Christine froze as she heard a knock at the door. Meg would have just stormed in, it was not in her nature to knock and she wasn't expecting anyone. And that knock...that was Erik's knock. Tentatively, she got up from her bed and crept towards the door, trying to suppress her hopes, but not quite succeeding. She opened the door a crack and almost sobbed in relief when she saw Erik's familiar figure, donning his Opera Ghost attire, but it was Erik nonetheless. Quickly opening the door fully, she ushered him inside, staring at him with something akin to awe. After a week of dreaming of him, it was hard to her to believe that he was truly here.

Her hand reached out and she watched it curiously, as if it was beyond her control. Her fingers brushed against his waistcoat, instinctively clutching at him and drawing him closer to her. "Erik?" she whispered brokenly, her voice thick with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Christine," he murmured, drawing her close in an embrace. She began crying in relief, clutching at his shoulders and desperately trying to get closer to him.

"Erik, I never meant to-I didn't want to hurt you...oh Erik, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry and I hope that you will forgive me, I never meant to turn away from you but you frightened me-" He cut her off, drawing back slightly in their embrace to place a gentle finger upon her lips.

"I should apologize to you. It was cruel of me to shun you as I did and absolutely unacceptable for me to doubt you." He bent to kiss her forehead and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "Will you forgive me, Christine? Please say you will."

"Oh Erik," she murmured, opening her eyes and gazing up at him. "Of course. Of course, my love." With that she drew him close for a kiss, indulging in the feel of him after a cold and lonely week alone. The kiss was all too short though, as Erik broke away and stepped back, leaving space between them. Christine bit her lip and looked down, her eyes suddenly burning with tears at his rejection. All she wanted was to forget the past week, to lie in his arms and pretend as if nothing had happened...Pretend...

"Christine, we must talk," he said seriously, keeping his hands on her shoulders but maintaining his distance. "You were terrified of me."

She shook her head furiously, but did not dare meet his eye. "No, Erik. No! I was not...not terrified of you..." Finally chancing a glance up at him, she saw that he clearly did not believe her. "Not of you, Erik...of the Opera Ghost."

He shook his head, not quite understanding. "I am the Opera Ghost, Christine. You know that better than anyone."

"But...you were never the Opera Ghost to me." She sighed and bit her lip, struggling for the words to convey her feelings. "You were always Erik...you were always kind and sweet. Except for that day...the day I stole your mask." Her hand reached up to his mask, her fingers tracing where flesh met porcelain. Holding his gaze, she slowly lifted his mask, setting it to the side on her table. "All the sudden you were gone and in your place was this mad man...the Opera Ghost. And I had never understood why he was so frightening...but in that moment, I did."

She bit her lip once more as her palm caressed the scarred half of his face, as if reassuring herself that it was still her beloved in front of her. "I never reconciled the fact that _you_ are the Opera Ghost...I think my mind still tried to separate you. And I was doing fine until the other day...something in the way you were speaking...in the way you moved. It reminded me of that day and...I was frightened once more. Not of you, Erik, never of you, but...of the Opera Ghost. Of the other part of yourself."

"Did you think that I would hurt you, Christine?" he whispered, pain filling his every word. She swallowed, carefully considering her words before speaking. His gaze slowly rose to hers, afraid to hear her answer, but needing to all the same.

"I did not-I do not think of you and of the Opera Ghost as the same person, Erik, let me make that clear. And I know that you would never hurt me. But the Opera Ghost..." she trailed off, her heart breaking at the anguish in his eyes. She attempted to smile, to make the best of the situation. "But soon we will be free of him, Erik! Soon the Opera Ghost will be exorcised from this place once and for all and we will never have to worry about him again."

Erik shook his head sadly, breaking away from Christine fully and going to sit on her bed, his head cradled in his hands. "The Opera Ghost will never be gone, Christine. You say that you were frightened of the anger and the violence...those are things that exist inside me. My temper will never leave...you will always have to live in fear of me." He finally glanced up at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I do not think I could live with you constantly fearing me, Christine."

She came to stand in front of him, dropping to her knees and placing her hands on his knees. "And I cannot live without you, Erik. So we have quite the dilemma." She smiled weakly at him. "If I could...learn how to calm you, how to deal with your temper...I wouldn't be as fearful. I just felt so helpless...is there something that I can do to help you regain your equilibrium when you get like that, Erik?"

At first he shook his head but Christine just kept her gaze steadily on him, her thumbs rubbing small circles onto the fabric of his pants. Sighing, he grasped her hands and urged her to stand up, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "Your singing always has soothed me, Christine. Even in my most violent tempers, the sound of your voice has always managed to reach me." She nodded as his fingers came up to gently stroke her throat, her eyes falling shut at his touch, the touch she had been aching for this past week. "And..." he paused, flushing in what appeared to be embarrassment. "Your touch, Christine. Most would not think something as simple as a touch would have such a powerful effect, but for one who has never been touched out of love his entire life...your loving touches make me as gentle as a lamb, my dear."

Immediately, her hands flew up to his face, cupping both sides and her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks. Sure enough, Christine could literally feel the tension drain out of his body. She leaned in, softly brushing her lips to his. When she pulled back, she smiled at him, waiting until he did the same. Reaching up, she quickly removed the wig and laid it to the side, wanting to run her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Erik," she murmured.

"I can never let you go, Christine," he whispered brokenly, his voice cracking and his grip on her waist tightening as she continued to gently touch his face and stroke his hair.

She giggled softly and pulled back slightly, her sudden movements causing him to look up at her. "You're supposed to say 'I love you too,' you know," she teased.

He chuckled and one hand reached up to gently stroke the soft skin of her cheek. "I love you too, Christine Daaé. I will never stop."

Smiling lovingly at him, she gently drew her finger over his deformed lips. "Good. For the record, Erik, I never want you to let me go. When I accepted your proposal, I bound myself to you forever. I have no desire to have it any other way."

"You have no desire to be a Vicomtess then? You willingly give yourself to this sad excuse for a man?" She expected to hear bitterness in the question, but instead she only heard fear.

Looking hard at him, she shook her head slowly and deliberately. "Do not say such things about yourself, Erik. You are a good man. You have your faults but who doesn't? Your temper, your anger...your past, all are things that I accept about you now. I can live with that knowledge, Erik. I could not live without you. All the titles and money in the world would mean nothing to me without you and our music. That is all I need to survive. Remember, darling, I grew up very poor. But my papa loved me fiercely and taught me that any life can be a happy one with love and music. And with you, I know that I will forever have both." Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his in a gentle kiss. "I cannot wait until the day that I can call you husband, Erik."

"Soon, my sweet Christine," he murmured. She grinned and leaned into him, all but begging for a kiss. "Soon," he whispered against her lips, before closing the gap between them.


	17. Chapter 17

Notes: Hopefully I'll be able to finish this story in the next few weeks, it's definitely winding down! Which is both exciting and kind of scary, since I'm still not sure how it's going to end! As always, thank you so much for all your kind words and reviews! I love hearing what you think of the way that the story's progressing!

* * *

Christine nervously twisted at her beloved golden band on her right hand, waiting in the wings for her cue. It was a week before the premiere of the opera and it was the first full dress rehearsal for the company. She was dressed in Aminta's lovely coral gypsy dress, her skirts swishing softly as she rocked back and forth.

So far, she had been successful in avoiding Raoul. As soon as rehearsal ended, she would hurry backstage to her dressing room and immediately venture down to the cellars and to Erik's home. A few times she had left with Meg, who had been sure to simply push past the Vicomte if he dared approach them. But she knew that her luck could not last forever. She had peeked out into the audience and noticed that the Vicomte was not there, but she knew that he would not just simply leave her alone.

She took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself, but gave a yelp of surprise when a hand encircled her wrist and spun her around. "Christine, please before you say anything, I must speak with you," Raoul pleaded.

Christine jerked her hand out of his grasp, taking a step away from him. "Raoul," she hissed, "we are in the middle of a rehearsal. I cannot speak with you now!"

"They will wait, Christine. I am the main patron; they will wait if I tell them to wait. I must speak with you about what happened in the graveyard."

She narrowed her eyes. "You mean when you offended my fiancé so mortally that he barely spoke to me for a week? Yes, Raoul, let's talk about it." Crossing her arms across her chest, she took on a defiant stance. Raoul sighed and shook his head, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. She quickly shrugged him off and stepped back once more, her back coming into contact with the wall. There was no where left to run. She was trapped.

"He is a dangerous man, Christine, surely you can see that," Raoul entreated her, taking her hint that she did not want to be near him and keeping his distance. "I am only concerned for your safety."

"I am perfectly safe with Erik, Raoul. He is not the Opera Ghost as you so ridiculously implied. That man is my tutor, the one who's been wreaking havoc at the opera house. I only met Erik a year ago. He is a legitimate businessman, he's an architect." She glanced out to the stage, knowing that her cue was coming soon. "Raoul, I must go rehearse, I do not have time to speak with you!" With that, she strode out on stage, her stomach knotting as she heard Raoul follow her.

She was about to open her mouth to sing her first note when Raoul suddenly bellowed behind her. "I need a moment with Mademoiselle Daaé. My apologies to the company, but it is terribly urgent." Without another word, he strode across the stage and placed a firm hand on the small of her back, leading her across the stage and into the wings. Christine bit her lip as he steered her towards her dressing room but then suddenly took a detour, leading her to the chapel instead.

Once inside the relative privacy of the chapel, she spun on Raoul, fixing him with a glare. "Do not ever embarrass me like that in front of the company again, Monsieur le Vicomte! I already have to hear taunts about being the Phantom's Whore, I do not need gossiping tongues to add Vicomte's Mistress to that as well."

Raoul, to his credit, at least looked apologetic. "I am sorry for dragging you off in such a manner, Christine, but I have to talk to you." He advanced on her and she held her glare, taking a step back. He held out his hands as if in surrender and stayed his ground. "Christine, you can tell me, you know. You can tell me if he's threatened you or me. I have made sure that he was not in attendance at rehearsal today, you're safe."

Christine had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the Vicomte's earnest statement. Didn't he think about the fact that if his accusations were true, the Opera Ghost seemed to be omnipresent at the opera house? He knew all that went on, he would certainly notice the Vicomte stopping rehearsal to drag her offstage. In fact, she was fairly certain that he was watching them now, or at least listening to them in some hidden passage here in the chapel. That gave her a bit of confidence; the fact that he had not yet strangled Raoul spoke of his confidence in her. She could handle this. She had to.

"Raoul," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "I will not deny that I am frightened of the Opera Ghost. But you are mistaken if you think that Erik is that same man." She shook her head, crossing her arms again. "Erik is one of the only things keeping me sane right now, Raoul. He assures me that this plan, that _you_ have convinced me to participate in, will work, and we will be free to live our lives. That's all I want, Raoul. To live my life with Erik as my husband." She looked at him earnestly, begging him to believe her.

But Raoul simply shook his head. "But you cannot deny the evidence, Christine! The drawing! The fact that Erik wears a mask just as the Phantom does!"

Her gaze hardened and she pursed her lips. "The drawing was destroyed, Raoul. Erik and I destroyed it once we reached his home. We were both outraged by it. And if you are to accuse my fiancé of a crime, I hope that you have more evidence than the same misfortune of the need to wear a mask. My fiancé has been deformed from birth and has been treated cruelly because of it all his life. Besides, he looks nothing like the Opera Ghost. Joseph Buquet, the man that you got that supposed portrait from, always described the Opera Ghost as a most frightening man. Yellowed skin, a hole for a nose, sunken- in gold eyes that shine in the dark like a cat's...a spectre, monsieur, a living corpse! Ask any of the ballet rats! Erik is none of those things, even you cannot deny that."

Raoul shook his head. "You destroyed the picture? Christine, that was the only thing that could free you! It gave the Opera Ghost motive to kill Joseph Buquet; it was the evidence to be used at his trial!"

Christine shook her head. "We will catch the Opera Ghost, as planned, Raoul. He will be convicted, as planned. He will cease to be a nuisance in this opera house. And once all of these things have occurred, my fiancé and I will be able to live our lives in peace." She took a deep breath to calm herself and leveled her gaze with Raoul's. "Now, if you please, Monsieur le Vicomte, I must return to rehearsal. We only have a week until opening night and the Opera Ghost has made it known that if everything is not exactly to his liking, there will be hell to pay. I for one, shudder to think of what sort of things he could do if we do not appease him. The matter is settled," she said with finality, brushing past Raoul to return to the stage.

As she returned to rehearsal, she held her head high in the face of the whispers and the dirty looks from various members of the company. She tried her best not to cringe as she heard Carlotta's absurdly loud "whispers" to some of the members of her entourage, speculating on what both the Ghost and the Vicomte must see in a little rat like her. With as much grace as she could muster, she made it through the rest of the opera, breathing a huge sigh of relief when Reyer dismissed them. Meg was immediately at her side, winding her arm around Christine's, walking with her back to her dressing room. Raoul was smart enough to stay away and for that much, Christine was grateful.

"What did the Vicomte want, Christine?" Meg asked softly as they made their way through the corridors.

"He wanted to speak with me about the Opera Ghost of course, Meg. He is still convinced that the Phantom is Erik. I tried to dissuade him...but I am not sure that he believed me." Christine was careful as to what she said, not feeling safe to truly disclose her feelings on the matter until they were in the safety of her dressing room. Meg nodded gravely, staying silent on the rest of the walk to the room.

Once inside Christine's safe haven, Meg immediately started helping Christine out of her costume. "Erik has exquisite taste," she murmured as she unlaced the back of Christine's dress.

She chuckled and nodded. "He does. It still baffles me that he conceived every little piece of this opera." Sighing with relief as Meg helped her out of her dress and loosened her corset slightly, she turned to her friend, wringing her hands together. "Oh Meg. I'm so nervous. What if Raoul persists? Will all this work if he is dead set on proving that Erik is the Opera Ghost? "

"Christine, don't worry. He has no proof. You destroyed that picture labeling Erik as the Opera Ghost. And Erik has money, you'd be amazed at the problems money solves, dear Christine," she said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Nodding her agreement, Christine still looked concerned. "But so does Raoul. And money causes as many problems as it solves. Besides, Erik does not have the same standing as Raoul does. The managers are still leery of him, I can tell."

Meg stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder. "I will not tell you again, Christine. Do not fear. This means too much to you and to Erik. He won't let it go awry, no matter how much the Vicomte pushes." Christine smiled and nodded, placing her hand over Meg's. "Now!" Meg exclaimed, a smile on her face, "Come on! I'm sure that your fiancé is eagerly awaiting you and you and I both know that he is not a patient man."

Laughing, Christine went to her armoire to pick out one of her simple gowns. "Indeed he is not. And I'm sure that he is eager to discuss the Vicomte's accusations." She sighed, picking out a light pink gown and throwing it over her arm. Turning to Meg, she made a little shooing motion with her hands. "Go get changed, Meg! Remember, Erik said that he wants to take us all out to dinner again tonight! We can't have you looking like that on the refined streets of Paris!" she teased, eying her friend's provocative gypsy dancer costume. Meg giggled and did a little twirl as she moved towards the door.

"Maman and I will meet the two of you in the foyer when we are ready to leave!" she called over her shoulder as she exited the room, the door shutting with a soft click. Christine locked it immediately, not taking any chances of the Vicomte blundering into her room. She sighed as she began dressing for dinner, quietly repeating to herself, "Everything will work out for the best, Christine. It will."


	18. Chapter 18

Notes: Haven't posted in forever, so I finally got my butt in gear and polished up this chapter. This story is winding down, but I'm still writing the ending. SO if you want to see something happen, if you want the story to end a certain way, please tell me and if your idea strikes my fancy, I'll try and include it. :) Thanks to all my readers, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Erik watched as Christine paced back and forth in her dressing room, singing through scales and some of the various warm-ups that he had taught her through the years. It was the opening night of his opera and he could tell that his fiancée was more than a little nervous. If he was honest with himself, he was as well. Tonight would decide the rest of their fate, if everything did not go according to plan...all that he had worked so hard for, it would all be lost.

Smoothing his hands over his black wig, he shook the negative thoughts from his head. Christine's doubts were beginning to fill his mind, but he could not allow them to. He had to be strong for her, set her fears to rest, make her believe that everything would be just fine. Stepping through the mirror, he felt his heart nearly burst with love as Christine immediately turned to him and smiled, practically charging him, catching him in a fierce embrace. He returned the gesture whole-heartedly, careful not to mess her hair or costume. "You look just as I always pictured, Christine. My perfect Aminta."

She drew back, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "That's the only reason that you love me, isn't it? I knew you were just using me, all along," she accused, the mirth shining through in her voice. He chuckled and shook his head in denial. A sudden seriousness overtook her features and she bit her lip, looking up to Erik. "Is everything in place?"

He nodded. "My man, Pierre, is safely in the audience, wearing my wig and mask. I have instructed him not to have any contact with anyone and made sure that he had some incentive to follow my instructions." He stroked her cheek lightly, leaning forward to gently kiss her lips. "It will all go according to plan. I will meet you for "Point of No Return" and then we will drop down to the cellars. Pierre will follow us, go out the Rue Scribe exit and we will continue on to my home. We will wait until the boy or the authorities find us and then tell them the story of how we defeated the Opera Ghost."

She nodded, still worrying her lip nervously. "I'm frightened, Erik. I'm so frightened."

"Christine, you have been onstage from the time that you were ten, there is no need to be nervous," Erik teased, deliberately misunderstanding her question in hopes of making her smile. She rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder lightly.

"Not what I meant and you know it." They both chuckled slightly, a small smile on Christine's face. She looked to the clock on her wall and sighed, her palms running over the lapels of his jacket. He would change into his costume right before, finding it easier to move around in his regular attire, rather than the long black cloak that Don Juan wore for the particular scene that he would be stealing Piangi's limelight. "You must go soon, Erik. I need to get to the wings."

He nodded his agreement and kissed her softly again. As he drew back, he produced a rose with flourish, waving it under Christine's nose. She giggled and took it, inhaling its sweet fragrance. "I am giving this to you early, because no matter what happens tonight, you could not possibly disappoint me, my sweet Christine. And I figure that we will be quite busy after the performance and I did not want to forget."

She smiled, shaking her head and laughing quietly. "You would never forget." Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she stepped forward and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Erik. See you soon."

"I love you too, Christine. I will be watching and listening, as always." She took a deep breath and nodded, squaring her shoulders and looking as if she were preparing for battle. He nodded and tilted his head to her, before moving to the mirror and quickly working the mechanism that allowed him into his world beneath the operahouse.

Christine sighed, watching from the wings as the final scene from the second act started. She only appeared at the end of the scene, so she had quite a while to observe. Unbidden, her gaze turned to the audience, seeing Raoul sitting in Box Four, right next to the infamous Box Five, which remained empty per the Opera Ghost's wishes. Flitting over to Box One where her supposed fiancé sat, she examined the man sitting in for Erik. The resemblance, from where she was standing, was uncanny. But she knew that was mostly due to the wig and mask.

Her attention turned back to the stage and she noticed that it was almost time for her to make her appearance. She wandered onstage just as they had rehearsed, sending a coy glance Piangi's way, waving slightly, before skipping over to a flower stand and playfully picking up a rose and putting it in her hair. Smiling still, she flitted offstage, not dropping her cheery pretense until she was safely within the wings. There had been members of the gendarme all over the theatre, posted at every exit. It was obvious that the managers and Raoul did not want the Opera Ghost to be taken alive. She swallowed nervously, before running to her dressing room to change into her costume for the next act. In the beginning of the third act was "Point of No Return" and for she and Erik, the title had never been so apt.

The real show was about to begin.

* * *

Luckily for Erik, Ubaldo Piangi was a creature of habit. Every time he was offstage, he would take a sip of water and a spritz of throat spray, just like his beloved Carlotta. Just before the beginning of Act III, when "Point of No Return" took place, Erik had slipped enough laudanum into the water and the throat spray to down an elephant for a few hours. There would be no way that Piangi could disrupt his plans tonight.

Piangi had barely been able to close the curtain before falling unconscious and Erik had to quickly catch him before his body hit the floor and alerted everyone in the theatre that something was not right. He carefully laid him down on the ground, careful not to make too much noise. Once he was certain that Piangi was out of the way, he flipped his hood up over his head, listening closely to Christine, waiting for his cue. He had to struggle to focus, even though Christine's part in the song was brief, her voice held such a power over him, it was difficult not to lose himself in it.

Her line ended and he stepped over Piangi, flinging open the curtains and just as quickly closing them. The hood that covered most of his face was sheer, it was the only way that he could move around and be able to make out where Christine was. Although, he had designed the set himself, he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand.

Making his way to Christine, he began singing to her, his voice seducing her from across the stage. He knew very well the reaction that Christine had to this particular song and suddenly he ached for them to be alone, singing these words of passion into her ear while she melted into his embrace. Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his fantasy, knowing that one misstep could spell disaster tonight.

They moved through the choreography perfectly, just as they had rehearsed down in his home and as Christine had rehearsed with Piangi. He could feel the tension coursing through her body and desperately wanted to reassure her, but knew that he couldn't. He sat beside her on the bench as he sang the last few lines of his part, trailing his fingers over the exposed skin of her chest, drifting down to brush against her breast. She gasped and pulled away, true to Aminta's character, and Erik smirked, silently applauding Christine's acting skills. Usually such a manuever would have her warm and willing in his arms.

Erik listened carefully as Christine skipped around the stage, the words of lust and passion falling easily from her lips. He found it hard to keep still and kept rubbing at his thighs and clenching his fists, anything to keep him from getting up and taking her right there on the stage. While it'd be quite in character for the opera, he doubted that the Paris elite wanted to see such a thing...or perhaps they did. But he knew that Christine would have his head for such a stunt.

He heard her voice get closer and closer, until suddenly she was standing right behind him, her tiny hands running down his chest to grasp his hands that were still clenching on top of his thighs. Moving him as if he were her puppet, Erik followed her every lead, smiling slightly when he felt her cheek rub against his mask and hearing her faux shocked gasp. She tried to pull away and he sprung to his feet, grasping her wrist and dragging her back onto the stage, towards their mark. He took a deep breath as the song was about to come to an end. Now came the difficult part.

"_We've past the point of no return!_" they sang in unison, Christine flinging back his hood to expose his masked face to the world. He was wearing a black mask that covered most of his face, both sides, leaving only his lips exposed. Christine gasped and tried to pull away from him, but he pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"_Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you." _At that, he grabbed her hand from between them and slipped on the ring from his pinkie finger onto her ring finger. He was carefully moving them over to his trap door, so when he finished his impromptu proposal, he could immediately drop them down into the cellars._ " Anywhere you go let me go too! Christine, that's all I ask of you!"_ With that, he stepped forcefully on the floor board that opened up the trap door, wrapping his arms around Christine as they fell through. He heard the commotion above them and stepped out of the way before Pierre came falling in behind them. He was just in time, as the door snapped shut just as soon as he fell through, and Erik smirked as he heard the people above pounding on the floor, desperate for it to open again.

The other man hopped up and his lips quirked up when he saw the couple in front of him. "Monsieur Durand, a pleasure as always. This errand was a bit more...adventurous than the sorts of things I usually do for you. The jump from the box to the stage was a bit more treacherous than I expected."

Erik chuckled and held out his hand for the mask and wig, which Pierre gladly surrendered. "I promise that you will be compensated for the great favour that you have done for us tonight. Do you remember how to get to the Rue Scribe entrance?" Pierre nodded and Erik briefly bobbed his head. "Travel safe, monsieur. I will see you soon, I'm sure."

"Not if I see you first!" Pierre cheekily replied and then turned, heading off in the direction of the Rue Scribe.

Christine watched as the man became nothing more than a little speck of light in the darkness and then disappeared completely. Turning to Erik, she smiled softly as he held his arm out to her. "Shall we descend into the Phantom's lair, my dear?" Nodding, she took his arm and they began their journey to his home, one last time.


	19. Chapter 19

Note: Apologies for the very short chapter this time around, but it seemed like a good stopping point. :) Hopefully the next (possibly last) chapter will be up soon though! I've finally had a fit of inspiration with this story and am determined to finish it. Hope you enjoy!

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Christine was thankful when they reached the relative safety of Erik's home. She desperately wished to change out of her costume, but knew that the supposed Phantom keeping her captive would hardly think of letting her change into one of her more comfortable gowns. Erik had run off to change and she occupied herself by messing up his home, making it appear as if a scuffle had occurred. Everything had to be believable when people found them.

She sighed as she carefully turned a chair on its side, almost laughing with the care that she took in the action. Erik appeared from the recesses of his home and smiled at Christine, walking over to her and taking the pile of papers that she so carefully held in her hands, and threw them into the air. "Christine, you're supposed to make it look as if there was a confrontation here. Not a strange new decorating trend. Do not be afraid to break things."

Chuckling self consciously, Christine shrugged. "I am loathe to break any of your things though, Erik. They all seem so...valuable, so exotic. Surely they are one of a kind?"

Erik stepped close to her and cupped her cheek, a gleam in his eyes revealing his fondness for her. "You are the only thing that is truly valuable in my home, Christine. These things are simply things. They can be replaced." He turned and bent down to pick up a vase that she had carefully laid on its side. "Now, break something, Christine."

She giggled as she took the pottery from Erik's hands and turned to the side, dropping it. The porcelain shattered and she shrieked, stepping back into Erik's waiting arms. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair and then carefully manoeuvred her away from the shards and more towards the inner sanctum of his home. She opened her mouth to tell him something, but he suddenly placed his finger on her lips in a clear indication of his desiring her silence.

There was a peculiar sloshing noise as if someone was moving through the lake, towards the home. Christine shook her head. But surely no one would be down here yet. Madame Giry and Meg were to show the genderarme the route below after an hour, giving Erik and Christine plenty of time to create their story. It had only been fifteen minutes, at most, since they had dropped down to the cellars, much too soon for anyone to have found them.

Fear suddenly seized Christine's heart. What if it was Madame Giry, coming down to tell them that something had gone horribly wrong? What if it was some wayward stagehand, thinking himself the hero in this strange story, coming to rescue her? Would Erik kill him, if that were the case?

Erik stepped away from her and closer to the edge of the little room, peering curiously out onto the lake. He hissed and Christine rushed to him, desperate to see who it was that was ruining their plan. She squinted, almost recognizing the figure trudging through the shallow part of the lake leading up to the grate.

"Raoul!" Christine cried in despair, realization dawning on her finally. She placed her hand on Erik's arm, understanding why he was so upset. Not only was someone ruining the plan, but it was someone who he viewed as an odd sort of rival, no matter how much she protested the comparison. "Raoul, what are you doing here? It's not safe!" Her eyes widened, as if in fear, as she hoped to convince Raoul of the continued existence of the Opera Ghost. "You must leave; the Phantom will be back any moment! He must not see you!"

Raoul was at the gate now and clung to the bars. He was seemingly ignoring her and she knew that her pathetic attempt to keep up the ruse was useless. Instead of acknowledging her claims, he addressed himself to Erik. "Let her go, monster!" Immediately, Christine felt Erik tense, if it was even possible for his body to hold more tension than it already did, and she felt her heart sink. "I know it was you who took her from the stage. You are the Opera Ghost, monsieur!"

Erik chuckled dryly and clapped unenthusiastically while Christine looked to him, worried. "Very observant, Monsieur le Vicomte. You have found your way to the Phantom's lair. But you should know that no one ever escapes him here." Christine glanced between the two men, seeing her world slowly unraveling and not being able to do anything about it. Laying both her hands on his arm, she tugged at him, determined to break his gaze on Raoul.

"Let me see her!" Raoul shouted, the desperation mounting in his voice.

Erik turned to her, his gaze absolutely unreadable. She took a deep breath and hoped that her next action would not be misconstrued by Erik's jealous mind. "Let me speak to him, my love. Maybe I can get him to leave us alone. Maybe he will participate in our plan, help us...Erik, please," she pleaded, hoping that she could convince Raoul of...something. Anything, so as long as he helped their cause.

He appeared to consider her words for a moment before nodding curtly. With a wave of his hands, he appeared to open the gate by use of sorcery, although Christine saw him flip the switch that lay at his feet. She edged towards Raoul, stepping onto the makeshift dock and helping him up onto it when he drew close enough.

Turning fully towards him, she was surprised when he swept past her and ran up the slope, making a beeline for where Erik was standing. Usually, Erik was like an immoveable boulder, but Christine watched in amazement as Raoul ducked and ran straight into the larger man, knocking him off his feet. Erik was just as surprised by the attack as Christine was and Raoul got in one good punch, perched on top of him, as a result. But Erik quickly regained his equilibrium and with a roar more animal than man, he threw Raoul from him, throwing his own punches.

Christine was frozen as the men continued to fight, unable to believe what she was seeing. Erik managed to crawl away from Raoul's furious and flailing attacks and she gasped as she saw Erik's hand move peculiarly, making some sort of flicking motion. Horror sunk in as she realized that not all of Joseph Buquet's horrid stories were untrue, as she suddenly knew that Erik meant to strangle Raoul with the Punjab lasso. She needed to stop them, but was incapable of moving, she was so frightened.

While Erik was preparing to use his deadly weapon, Raoul had not been idle. Christine did manage a shriek as she saw what her once friend intended, raising up a vase above Erik's head and dropping it suddenly. Erik sprawled to the ground, unconscious, and Christine gave another strangled shout as she, much to her chagrin, followed suit.


	20. Chapter 20

Note: Goodness! An extra long chapter this time around, lots of important things happening. The story is winding down, hope that you guys have enjoyed! Only another chapter or two left. Please read and review-I love to hear what you guys think of this chapter! I wasn't too sure of it myself, so it'd be nice to get some second opinions.

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Christine awoke groggily, unsure as to where she was. The last thing she remembered was Raoul swimming up to Erik's home...she had pleaded with Erik to let her speak to him...but they had started to fight and Raoul, oh God, Raoul had knocked Erik unconscious. The memories flooded back to her and she gasped, alerting Raoul to her now conscious state. She was lying on the chaise lounge, tucked away in Erik's living room. She could only assume that Raoul had carried her here after she had fainted on the dock. Raoul, who was now hovering over her, looking quite a bit worse for wear. It was clear that most of Erik's punches had landed, as he had a rapidly swelling left eye and a split lip.

"Christine," he breathed, sitting next to her and cupping her cheek carefully. "Thank goodness you're alright, darling. You're safe now. I'm here." His tone was that of a lover, as was his gentle touch and Christine's head swam a little bit as she tried to figure out why.

"Raoul...Raoul, what are you doing here? How did you find this place?" she questioned, her voice hoarse. As her senses returned to her, an even more urgent question came to her. "Where is Erik?"

"Joseph Buquet had a map of the cellars in his belongings. He imagined that there were secret entrances throughout the opera house, though he did not know where they led. I took a chance on assuming that they led to the Opera Ghost." He smiled, quite clearly proud of himself and his deductions. "As for Erik-" As if right on cue, Christine heard a low moan from somewhere in the corner and she sat up quickly, her eyes desperately trying to seek out her fiancé.

But Raoul gently pushed her back down on the chaise. "Do not worry, Christine. You need not be frightened of him. I have tied him up and we will wait for the genderarme to come and fetch him. I have left directions with the managers, as well as a copy of the map. I was not sure how long it would take me to secure your safety, so I made them wait an hour after your abduction. They will be here in fifteen minutes, Christine, and then you will be free of that monster for good." Christine gaped at him in horror. There was something in his eyes...some madness that she could not recall ever seeing before, as he continued to tell her of his plans. "And then we will be free to be married, Christine! I know that he has had you under a spell, Little Lotte. I know how frightened you must be of him, but I can promise you that soon you will never have to think of him again."

She shook her head slowly, her brain scrambling to figure out how to derail his plan. "No Raoul...no, you do not understand. I don't fear him...I am not under a spell...Raoul, I love him. He is my fiancé, I love him! Where is he?" She sat up again, batting away Raoul's hands and fighting back the nausea she experienced from moving too quickly. Erik sat in a lump a little bit away, his hands tied in front of him, attached to the leg of a table. He appeared to be coming around and Christine made an attempt to go to him, but was blocked by Raoul.

"Raoul, please!" she gasped, gripping his arms tightly that kept her seated. "You don't know what you're talking about. You can't turn him over to the authorities!"

"Christine," he replied, murmuring again, stroking her hair as if she were a child. "He's a murderer. A murdering freak who could never hope to be worthy of you! He's hypnotized you somehow into thinking you love him, but you don't. Little Lotte, you love me!"

She shook her head, almost unable to believe this was happening. "Raoul...I love you as a friend. And perhaps if things were different...I could love you as something more. But there is no sorcery here; Erik has not deceived me into loving him. I spurn your affections because I crave his! Raoul, let me go!" she yelled, finally wrenching free of his grasp and stumbling over to where Erik was slumped over. "Oh Erik, Erik, please wake up. You can hear me, can't you, darling?" She cupped his face as his eyes started to flutter and she sighed in relief as his eyes struggled to focus on her.

"Christine, just go with him. Just go. He's right. I'm a murderer...my bloody hands should have never been allowed to touch you," he said hoarsely, his tone sounding utterly defeated.

Her mouth dropped open in shock at his words. He agreed with Raoul? He thought that she should leave him? Her lips thinned and she shook her head in earnest. "This is not a question of worth, Erik. We've been over this. I love you and not even Death himself will be able to separate us!" Suddenly, she felt two hands grasp her arms and pull her up and away from Erik. She struggled against Raoul's hold, but she was no match for him.

"By his own confession, Christine! A murderer! He's violent, he's dangerous! I cannot let you stay with him!" Raoul told her, dragging her away from Erik's side, no matter how much she flailed and struggled against him.

He set her down on the chaise again and she calmed slightly, staring up at him with resolve in her eyes. "He's not the one I'm frightened of right now." It took a moment for realization to dawn in his eyes and Raoul looked down at her in shock. "You are in a position to take away everything I love, everything I've ever hoped for, Raoul. If Erik is taken away...I cannot live without him. You will kill me, Raoul. How will that make you any better than he is?"

"Christine!" Raoul exclaimed. "This is just further proof of what a spell he has you under. You would never threaten such things if you were of a clear mind." He seemed resolute in his beliefs and Christine floundered desperately for a way to shake him. Anything that Erik would do or say would be seen by Raoul as a way to influence her mind. It was up to her to convince him of her love for Erik and to attempt to get him to corroborate their story when the genderarme came looking for them.

"Erik has me under no spell, Raoul. Please, believe me!" She grasped his hands and pulled him to the chaise with her. "He _is_ the Opera Ghost, Raoul. He does possess abilities that I cannot even fathom...done things that I do not care to imagine. But to me...he was my Angel of Music when I was a little girl and only last year revealed his true self to me. I adored my Angel with the willing blindness of a child, but with the mind of a woman, I fell in love with Erik. He has not bewitched me any more than any other man bewitches the woman who loves him." She tried to keep her gaze trained on Raoul, but towards the end of her confession, she couldn't help but glance over to Erik. He seemed intensely focused on the conversation but Christine could hardly discern his mood.

"But he is a demon, Christine! That's why he wears the mask, isn't it?" Raoul got up from the chaise and walked over to Erik. Erik tried to turn his head away from Raoul's reach, but it was no use. The knots that Raoul had learned to tie in the Navy were proving to be quite formidable and Erik was still bound to the table, despite his best efforts to free himself. Without any formality, Raoul whisked away the mask and paled at the sight of Erik's bare face. Raoul's fingers dug into Erik's hair, as he was not wearing a wig, and wrenched his head to the side so that Christine could see him fully. "Can you look upon this face and still claim love, Christine?"

She slowly rose from her seat and made her way over to where the two men were situated. All but collapsing in front of Erik, she ignored Raoul's horrified gasp when she reached out and cupped his twisted cheek. "Yes, Raoul. This is the face of the man I love," she whispered, her eyes not straying from Erik's as she spoke. Smiling softly at him, she wiped away the tears that had leaked out of his eyes at her confession and then leaned in, gently kissing him. Pulling away, she removed her hand and replaced it with her lips, only briefly. "My Erik," she murmured against his ear, before moving away. She slowly rose, turning slightly so she could lock gazes with Raoul.

His hand had fallen away from Erik's hair during their exchange and now the horrified look on his face would almost be comical, if the circumstances were different. "You kissed him!" he exclaimed. "You kissed...that!"

Christine nodded calmly. "I kissed the man I love. I kissed his lips and then I kissed his face. I _love_ him, Raoul."

His eyes, which had been so wild all night, suddenly calmed as he tore his gaze away from Erik's face and raised it to Christine's perfect visage. "You do, don't you?" She did nothing but nod her assent. "My God..." he muttered, trailing off as he stumbled to the chaise and sat down heavily.

Christine stood before him, her fingers twisting in the sumptuous material of her costume. Raoul seemed to be muttering to himself but she couldn't tell what he was saying. "The man who jumped in after you...who was that?"

Her brow furrowed. Of all the questions, that was not the one that she was expecting. Erik swiftly answered for her. "A man that I employ to run errands for me. He is long gone now." They both seemed to understand that once more, their goal was within reach and they both had to stay calm to win Raoul over to their side. Besides, still bound to the table, there was nothing much that Erik could do.

Raoul nodded and then looked first to Christine and then to Erik. "What did you plan to accomplish with all this? All this fuss about the Opera Ghost..."

"This was the culmination of our plan, Raoul. After tonight, the Opera Ghost would be no more. Our story would have been that Erik saved me from him and then killed him, throwing his body into the lake. And then Erik and I would be free to live our lives. Raoul," she said, sitting beside him and looking up at him pleadingly, "please...we can still have our plan work in such a way. But you must help us convince the genderarme. Madame Giry was supposed to direct them down to us within the same time frame, so they will be here any minute. Raoul...please."

He moved swiftly from where they were both seated and Christine cried out as she saw a flash of silver glint from his hand. "Raoul, no!"

He turned to her and looked down at the knife in his hand, then over to Erik. "I won't kill him, Christine," he said softly, almost sadly, kneeling down to cut away Erik's bonds. The other man eyed him warily, immediately reaching over to where Raoul had dropped his mask and fitting it back in place. Erik stood slowly and moved towards Christine, sitting down and wrapping her in his embrace as Raoul watched on in silence.

Suddenly they heard splashing and Christine's stomach knotted in fear once more. That had to be the genderarme. She could hear them shouting Raoul's name in the distance, as well as hers and Erik's. "Raoul...please," she whispered, her voice trembling. Erik's arms tightened around her and she grasped his forearm tightly. She would not allow him to be taken from her, no matter what Raoul did.

Soon the genderarme had descended upon the lair, looking around in astonishment at the place. Raoul moved forward and Christine held her breath. "We shall not need your assistance, gentlemen, but thank you for following instructions. Monsieur Durand and I have taken care of the Opera Ghost once and for all." Raoul turned to Erik and gestured to him.

Christine was relieved that Raoul gestured for Erik to speak because she would have been too much in shock to form a coherent story. He was...going along with their plan? "I was able to follow them and it was only by the grace of God that the Phantom did not ever hear me. He was quite seized with madness. He was going to force my Christine to marry him." Erik jumped into the story seamlessly but the genderarme looked fairly skeptical. Despite the fact that Erik had been in the public eye now since the Bal Masque, the mask clearly still set people ill at ease.

Erik seemed to realise this and Christine could immediately read the tension that radiated from him. He had an energy about him that was frightening, as if he was a caged animal, preparing to pounce-which obviously would not help their plan at all. Christine had recovered some of her wits and rose to stand beside Erik, placing her hand on his back in hopes of calming him.

"How exactly did you get down here? You said you followed them, but the Vicomte told the managers that no one else was aware of the secret passages hidden here," the captain of the genderarme asked Erik, the distrust blazing in his eyes.

Raoul answered before Erik had the chance to, clearly reading the reactions of the men the same way that Christine had. "He was the man that jumped in after the Phantom took Christine. It was easy to miss him in the chaos, but Monsieur Durand managed to fall through the same trap door the Phantom took. I attempted to do the same, figuring it was the fastest and safest way, but was too slow."

To Christine's relief, some of the distrust had faded from the captain's eyes and continued to fade as Erik continued the story. "When they arrived here, I attacked, but the Phantom was too quick for me. He knocked me unconscious and tied me to that table," he said, nodding over in the direction of the table and showing the men his rope-chafed wrists with a certain amount of chagrin. "Luckily for Christine and me, the Vicomte managed to find his way here before any harm could come to us."

Christine nodded and spoke up timidly, her voice wavering and uncertain. The captain looked at her with something akin to surprise, as if he had forgotten that she was there. "Raoul fought off the Phantom and freed Erik. They managed to subdue and kill him," she choked a bit on the last part of her statement, knowing all too well that her story could have come true if things had not been in their favour. She cleared her throat slightly and then continued, "Erik and I are forever in his debt." Reaching out, she laid a hand over Raoul's and smiled at him. Raoul simply smiled back and picked up her hand, gently kissing her soft flesh.

"No debt, Mademoiselle. Just...be happy," he murmured, glancing briefly at Erik before turning his attention fully back to Christine.

A wide smile broke out across her face as she nestled closer to her fiancé. "I will be."

One of the members of the genderarme cleared his throat and Erik, Christine, and Raoul promptly remembered they were not the only ones in the lair. The man in charge certainly looked more convinced than he had when he first arrived, but there was still the sharp hint of suspicion in his eyes. "If you have disposed of the Phantom as you say, where is the body, Monsieur le Vicomte, Monsieur Durand?"

"We threw it in the lake," Raoul immediately replied. The captain narrowed his eyes slightly and Christine felt fear once more creep into her being. If they wanted proof of the death, they would be sorely disappointed and all of these lies would have been for naught.

"We will have to recover it. The managers will not be satisfied until they have proof that the Opera Ghost is gone, once and for all," he said simply.

This time, Erik replied. "It is best not to go looking for it, gentlemen. Who knows what sort of traps that the Phantom had set there?"

Christine nodded, putting her fear to good use. "He is...was capable of anything, messieurs. I would not want the Phantom to claim any of your men's lives; I have no doubt that he could do it, even from beyond the grave. You may take my saviours at their words, the Phantom is dead." She added in some trembling for good measure, channelling all her terror from before into the best performance of her life.

Erik nodded and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Now please, gentlemen, if you will escort us out, I would like to get Mademoiselle Daaé home. She has been through so much tonight and I am concerned for her health."

The captain, seemingly convinced and eyeing the lake warily, agreed quickly and the entire party managed to find their way out, although Christine could sense Erik's frustration at not being able to use the more familiar and much quicker tunnels to return to the surface. The party dispersed when they reached the upper levels of the operahouse once more, leaving the three of them alone.

Christine turned to Erik and placed a brief kiss on his lips, before pulling back and smiling at him. He smiled back at her and then his gaze shifted to the Vicomte. Hers did as well and she was more than a bit surprised to feel Erik's hands gently pushing her towards the other man. "Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte," Erik said formally, tilting his head in gratitude. It sounded as if he had eaten something particularly foul, but Christine's heart swelled with pride at his gentlemanly behaviour.

Christine stepped forward and carefully kissed his cheek. "Yes. Thank you, Raoul. I do hope that we can continue to be friends? Someday get past...all this." Her gaze darted between the two men, neither looking particularly thrilled at the thought of being friends.

"Perhaps," Raoul mused quietly. "Have a pleasant rest of your night...I...apologize for the trouble that I have caused you." The atmosphere was tense and they all stood awkwardly for a moment before Raoul finally broke away and turned towards the exit of the operahouse.

Christine turned to Erik, a tentative smile on her face. "We have done it, Erik. We're free."

He nodded, leaning forward and kissing her cheek lightly, before pulling away and gently stroking her cheek. "Indeed. I can hardly believe that the night is over." Grasping her hands, he brought both up to his lips and brushed a few kisses against her knuckles. "Come now, Christine, we must seek out the Girys, they will be worried about you. I will get us some rooms in a nearby hotel...I am not willing to let you out of my sight tonight."

Her smile grew at Erik's words and she nodded, threading her arm around his. They began walking towards the still rather chaotic scenes of the operahouse and Christine laid her head against Erik's shoulder. "You shall make the best husband, Erik," she murmured.

At first, his reply was merely a gentle kiss pressed against her curls. "Soon, my sweet Christine. Very soon."


	21. Chapter 21

Notes: I want to start out by dedicating this chapter to the cast, crew, and devoted fans of Love Never Dies. It has its problems, but it is a beautiful piece of theatre and the West End just won't be the same without it. I'm a fan of the show and this little note is just my way of showing love for it.

Hopefully, that dedication didn't put too many of you off. :) A chapter or two left after this, thanks for sticking it out with me! Hope that you enjoy!

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Christine smiled up at Erik as he brought her a cup of tea, sitting down next to her on the couch. They had found the Girys and together, the four of them had found a hotel near the operahouse that had a few rooms vacant. They were currently sitting in the sitting room of the suite that Erik had procured for the Girys, next to the room that he had rented for Christine. His own room was a floor above, much to Christine's disappointment. She realized that away from the comfort of the operahouse, they would have to conduct themselves with more propriety, but the last thing that she wanted tonight was to be away from her fiancé.

Meg leaned forward eagerly, a blanket from one of the beds around her shoulders. "Raoul knocked Erik unconscious? Truly?"

Christine chuckled and looked over to her beloved who only grimaced. "The Vicomte," he spat out, as if the title left a sour taste in his mouth, "was not responsible for my state of unconsciousness. The vase that he dropped on my head was." He rubbed the knot on the back of his head with a wince and Christine leaned forward to gently kiss his cheek.

"I fainted after that and was so disoriented when I finally awoke…oh Meg." Christine sighed mournfully. "I do feel oddly sorry for Raoul…he seemed so in earnest but I can hardly fathom how misguided he was. I never gave him cause to think that I was in love with him and yet he seemed convinced that I was!"

Madame Giry had entered a few moments before, taking a seat next to her daughter's chair. "Love can do strange things to people, Christine. It is quite the force to be reckoned with. Look at the lengths that you two have gone to in the name of love." She gestured knowingly to Erik and Christine. The young girl blushed slightly, but Erik just smirked.

Christine was about to continue on with her story, but was interrupted by an enormous yawn from Meg. The blonde giggled and her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. "Oh Christine, I'm so sorry! I swear that I am not at all bored by your story, but my body is arguing differently. Could we continue this tomorrow? I want to be fully awake for the rest of your tale!"

Laughing, Christine nodded, quickly rising. "Oh of course, Meg! How silly of me…both of you must be exhausted!" she exclaimed, suddenly taking in the rather haggard expressions of both her ballet mistress and her dearest friend. Briefly embracing both, she smiled sweetly at them, before picking up her still full tea cup. "Sleep well, dear friends. We shall speak more in the morning."

Erik rose and tilted his head to both the Giry women. Meg gave a playful and overly elaborate curtsy in return and Madame Giry just rolled her eyes and nodded curtly. "Thank you for your generosity, Erik. The room is lovely."

His lips quirked up in an almost smile, half hidden by the mask. "It is the least that I can do, Madame. Sleep well." With that, he escorted Christine from the room. They walked slowly to her door, indulging in the quiet of the hotel.

Christine looked around quickly, before rising to her tip toes and pressing a kiss to Erik's lips. She pulled back almost immediately and smiled at him. "Goodnight, dear fiancé. I love you, Erik."

He gently stroked her cheek in return and smiled at her. "I love you too, Christine. Sweet dreams."

Opening her door, she set down her teacup on the small table right next to the door and then waved to Erik as she shut it again. Sliding the chain into place, she pouted slightly as she heard Erik's footsteps down the hall. Moving around the room, she turned up a few of the lamps, making sure that she would not be completely in the dark as she prepared for bed. She quickly drank her tea, pleased that it was not so hot as to burn her tongue as she gulped it down, and then headed into the en suite bathroom to complete her nightly ritual.

She came out; dressed in her simple sleep chemise, thankful that Madame Giry had thought ahead and had grabbed a few of her belongings along with hers and Meg's. Although she often slept nude while in Erik's bed, the thought of sleeping in that fashion by herself in this unfamiliar room was quite unsettling.

"_Christine…_"

Spinning around so that she was facing the bed, Christine nearly screamed as she saw a man sitting there. Her hand clutching at her chest, she glared at her fiancé, sitting with the most innocent of expressions on his face. He was in his own sleeping attire and his mask was on the nightstand beside the bed. "Erik, you frightened me half to death!" Her eyes darted to the door, its locks still in place. "How did you get in here?" she whispered incredulously, moving towards the bed.

She stifled another shriek as Erik grabbed her waist as soon as she was within arms' reach and rolled her beneath him. "I suppose that the Opera Ghost is not wholly dead. A man must have his secrets, Christine." She giggled as he stroked her cheek. "Did you really think that I would leave you alone tonight? I told you, I never want to let you out of my sight again," he mumbled, his lips preoccupied with the soft skin of her neck.

"I do have to admit that I was not looking forward to sleeping in this room by myself," she replied, her hands stroking his back. Squirming out of his embrace, she burrowed under the covers and flashed him a winning smile. "And now I have someone who can put out the lamps for me!" Erik grumbled as he got out of bed, but Christine just giggled.

The room was plunged into darkness but Christine knew that Erik could see the smile that she was giving him as he climbed into bed beside her. She drew herself closer to him, her fingertips brushing against the soft cotton of his shirt. His hands grabbed hers gently, wrapping around them completely and stopping their movement. "Sleep, Christine."

"But I'm not tired!" she declared petulantly, fully realising how childish she sounded.

"That's the adrenaline from the night talking. In reality, your body is exhausted, my dear." She was about to protest more, but Erik started humming a soft lullaby, one that she recognized from her youth.

He was barely halfway through the song before he heard her soft snores. Smiling to himself and drawing Christine closer, Erik let his eyes close as well.

* * *

Christine sighed, taking a sip of her water. They had all returned to the operahouse the next morning to find that _Don Juan Triumphant _was to be performed at least twice more that week, possibly three times depending on the ticket sales. Apparently what the audience had seen had enchanted them and the previous night's audience was eager to see how the story turned out. The managers were the ones to deliver the news and after thanking Erik profusely for rescuing Christine and ridding the operahouse of its resident spectre, they anxiously inquired if Christine would be willing to reprise her role in the opera. After Christine assured them that she was well enough to perform the role of Aminta, the company went straight into rehearsals.

Of course she heard the whisperings of the company, but she tried to ignore them. The tales that she caught snippets of grew more and more outlandish, as they often did within the walls of the operahouse, but she refused to open her mouth about anything that had happened the previous night, which tortured the gossips to no end.

She was secretly quite pleased that the public had demanded more performances of Erik's opera; it was by far her favourite role to date-doubtless because it had been written specifically for her. His music was divine and Aminta was such an engaging character to play.

Rehearsals did not run very long and Monsieur Reyer dismissed them with nothing more than their call times for the next day. In the chaos that was the backstage area after dismissal, Christine looked around for Meg but was taken by surprise when Carlotta accosted her. "Oh, I am so happy our little ingénue is safe!" she exclaimed dramatically, practically smothering Christine with a hug.

Finally catching sight of her friend nearly doubled over in laughter, Christine simply glared at Meg and awkwardly returned Carlotta's embrace before drawing away as quickly as possible. "Thank you, Carlotta. I am…glad to have your support during this time."

"Yes, yes, anything to help, darling. But of course," a wicked look crept into the other woman's eyes and Christine fought the urge to recoil, "I want you to enjoy your time in the spotlight. I'm sure with the Opera Ghost gone once and for all and the Vicomte on holiday for a bit, you'll be back with your little dancing friends in no time."

She hadn't known about Raoul's holiday, but after not seeing him at all at rehearsals that day, Christine had figured he had taken some time away from the operahouse. It was probably for the best for all involved, it would give him time to recover his wits and it would give her and Erik time to get married without fear of interference. Not that she thought Raoul would interfere again, but a small part of her couldn't help but be relieved at his absence. Turning her thoughts away from Raoul and more to the situation at hand, Christine smiled sweetly at Carlotta, squaring her shoulders. "I would like nothing better than to rejoin the corps, Madame. But my teacher's dream was to have me on the stage as a diva…although I cannot justify his recent actions, I can think of no better way to honour his memory than to audition for a leading role in the next production. And I assure you that my teacher was the best there was. I do not think that I will disappoint him. Good day, Madame," she said, with little more than a flick of her hair as she turned and came to stand beside Meg.

The petite blonde, much to Christine's surprise, managed to suppress her giggles until they were safely ensconced in Christine's dressing room. "I cannot believe that you stood up to that wretched old cow, Christine! I have never been so proud to call you my friend!" Meg exclaimed, hugging her tightly.

Christine only chuckled and shook her head. "I simply could not bear it any longer. With all the talk that's been following me around the entire day…I could not stand such nonsense to spew from her lips as well." Meg released her from the embrace and turned her gaze to something over Christine's shoulder, her eyes gleaming like she knew some sort of secret. "Meg?" Christine asked, trailing off.

The other girl simply took hold of her shoulders and spun her around, so that she could see the beautiful wedding dress hanging up in the armoire. "Oh…" Christine whispered, moving forward to gently skim her fingers over the luxurious and beautiful material. "But…I don't understand…"

"It's a wedding dress, silly!" Meg giggled, spinning Christine back around. "And I have been charged by your fiancé to see that you are in it and prepared for your wedding by six tonight! He's been planning this for months, Christine! He was so confident that the plan would work that he planned for you to get married the day after your great triumph! And I managed to keep it a secret, all this time! I've been picking out flowers and helping prepare and…Christine?" The excited chattering stilled and Meg stepped forward cautiously, her hand cupping Christine's cheek, wiping away a few tears that had fallen. "Oh Christine…this is what you want, isn't it?"

"What I want?" she questioned, her voice soft as if she were dreaming. "It's what I've wanted…since forever it seems." Snapping out of her trance, her eyes suddenly focused on Meg and a bright grin spread across her face. "Oh Meg, I'm getting married!" she squealed, catching her friend in a tight embrace which Meg heartily returned.

"Not if I don't get you out of this gown and into that one, you're not!" she teased, drawing back from their hug. "Now hurry up, future Madame Durand, we must work quickly!"


	22. Chapter 22

Notes: Seriously, Erik and Christine will not stop being adorable. They're getting out of control. But I can say with (almost) certainty, here will be two more chapters after this one and then this story will finally be complete! I hope that you enjoy this latest chapter, it's got a surprise cameo from one of my favourite characters! I didn't know that he was showing up to the wedding until...well, he did. :) Hope all my American readers are enjoying their 4th of July weekend!

* * *

They made Erik's deadline just barely, arriving at the doors of the nearby church with five minutes until the appointed hour. Christine pushed her hair over her shoulders as Meg fiddled with the veil. The other girl had insisted that she have an up-do, it was only proper for a _woman _getting married, but Christine knew how much Erik liked her hair down. Eventually, she talked her into simply pulling back half her hair, giving her an air of sophistication but still leaving plenty of curls for Erik to later wrap his fingers around.

"You look beautiful, Christine," Meg whispered to her, squeezing her hands. "Not at all like most of the brides we've seen. Do you remember? That one poor woman looked like she was going to be sick all over her dress!" Christine laughed at the memory. She and Meg used to sneak in to the church when there were weddings and watch the proceedings; they had seen many a frightful looking bride. "But not you," her friend continued, handing her a bouquet of white roses. "You look like an angel. You're positively beaming."

"Thank you, Meg. For helping plan all this and for helping me get ready and...thank you," she whispered, fiercely embracing the girl that she regarded as a sister.

Meg pulled away, wiping at the tears on her cheek. "Stop making me cry, Christine!" she scolded playfully. The two simply smiled at each other and quickly turned to the door as it opened.

Madame Giry stood before them, her face wearing a soft smile that was quite peculiar for the usually stern ballet mistress. "Right on time. Thank heavens, or else I'm sure that Erik would have worn a hole in the floor." She stepped forward and brushed her thumb against Christine's cheek, through the material of the veil. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Christine smiled and nodded softly. "Yes, Madame." The older woman nodded and held out her hand, which Christine quickly gripped. Meg stepped behind her to sort her train and then they entered into the cathedral.

At once, a beautiful melody filled the air and the smile on Christine's face was so big that she was sure it would split her face in two. Erik had composed a wedding march for her...of course he had. Her eyes eagerly sought him out at the organ, passionately playing his heart out for her. She reached the altar after what seemed to be the longest walk of her life and the notes of the wedding march faded out.

Erik practically lept from the organ bench, his eyes hungrily seeking out his bride. Finding her, a sense of contentment seemed to overcome his features and he offered her a small smile and bow before tugging on his coat and descending to meet her at the altar.

Once he was by her side, the priest began the ceremony, but Christine could read everything that Erik wanted to say to her in his eyes. She hoped that he could do the same with her. The way that he snuck little glances at her and the ever present smile on his face told her that he could.

She could tell that the length of the ceremony was getting to Erik, even though her own wedding was one of the shortest she had ever witnessed. Erik was not a religious man and the tension that began to gather in his frame belied his level of discomfort as the priest continued to speak. Christine's hand moved slightly to brush against his, hoping to calm him and convey that the ceremony was almost over. It seemed to work, as Erik became relaxed again and focused in on the priest.

Finally, the vows had been made, the rings exchanged, the marriage certificate signed...there was only one thing left to do. The priest pronounced them man and wife and gave Erik permission to kiss his bride. Turning towards each other, Christine's cheeks ached from smiling so much. Carefully, Erik lifted her veil and his hands came up to stroke his cheek. "I love you, my wife," he whispered, leaning towards her.

"Not as much as I love you, husband," she replied, just as their lips met in their first kiss as a married couple. They drew back only moments later, turning to face the extremely small congregation. Immediately, Meg all but threw herself into Christine's arms, hugging her tightly. "I will miss you," Christine whispered.

Meg laughed as she pulled back. "Well then, I will just have to visit often. Monsieur Durand will not mind, I'm sure!" She smirked over at Erik, who simply shook his head and shared a long-suffering look with Madame Giry.

Christine had noticed the strangely dressed foreign man when she had first walked down the aisle but had hardly paid him attention, having been too absorbed in Erik's music at the time. But the man now approached, clasping Erik on the shoulder and shaking his hand. "I have to say, I never thought that I would see this day, Erik. You've finally found a woman who will put up with you!"

"Watch your tongue, Daroga. I would hate to have to kill you on such a happy occasion," Erik replied, smirking.

Christine's mouth dropped and she gently hit his arm. The gentleman turned to her and smiled, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against the back. "Do not worry, my dear. He has been threatening my life for the past eighteen years and I am obviously still living. Congratulations, Madame Durand."

Erik growled, but Christine could see the affection in his eyes as he begrudgingly introduced them. "Christine, this is Nadir Khan, a rather constant thorn in my side. Daroga, this is," he beamed and straightened a little bit as he continued, "my wife, Christine Durand, formerly Daaé."

Christine smiled at the older man. "Erik has told me much about you." It was true. Although Erik refused to tell her particulars of much of his time in Persia, he did share stories of his time with the other man and his little son, Reza. She could still remember holding him as he told her, crying the entire time, of Reza's last hours and how he had ended the boy's suffering for both his and his father's sake. Nadir Khan had shown Erik kindness, had treated him as a human being, and had helped him escape with his life and that almost automatically made him one of Christine's favourite people in the world. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I hope that we will get to know each other well in the future."

"Oh my dear, I'm sure we will. If you ever need help talking sense into your thick-headed husband, I will be more than happy to assist you." Nadir smiled charmingly at her, ignoring Erik's glares. Madame Giry stifled a smile behind her hand at the Persian man's antics and Meg stared, wide-eyed, at the man who dared insult Erik so, certain that at any moment he would have Erik's lasso around his neck.

Erik's arm wrapped around her waist and drew her close. "Christine, do not mind the old fool. The years have not been kind to him and I'm afraid his mind is going." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Such a shame."

Nadir was about to fire off a reply when finally Madame Giry cleared her throat. "As much as I am enjoying watching this, I think it is time to move our little party elsewhere. Certainly the church will be needing to prepare for tonight's service. I shall go and hail Meg and myself a carriage."

"Madame Giry, no need for that! I have a carriage of my own and would be more than willing to transport you and your daughter to our shared location," said Nadir, a charming smile on his face.

The ballet mistress smiled slightly and nodded. "That would be greatly appreciated."

Nadir bowed his head slightly before turning back to Erik and Christine. "See you soon." With that, the three of them began walking back down the aisle, towards the doors of the church.

Christine turned to Erik, her eyes narrowing. "Where are we going, Erik? We can't go back to your home, it will certainly still be swarming with the genderarme."

Erik laid a gentle finger on her lips, swiftly cutting off any other predictions Christine might have had. "Another surprise, my wife. Come, we can't have our guests arriving before we do."


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks for sticking with me, loyal readers! Hope you enjoy this penultimate chapter. :)

* * *

Christine pestered Erik the entire carriage ride as to their destination, but he absolutely refused to tell her. He wouldn't let her look out the window either; making sure their destination was a complete surprise. After accepting that she would just have to wait, Christine slumped in her seat and pouted, while Erik just chuckled. After about a fifteen minute ride, the carriage finally came to a halt and Christine perked up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Erik exited the carriage first and held out his hand for his new bride.

She nearly tripped coming out of the carriage, gripping Erik's hand tightly as she took in the sight in front of her. "Oh Erik..." she whispered. Before her sat the most perfect little house she had ever laid eyes on. She knew that it was one of Erik's creations, it just seemed so...him and it reminded her slightly of the operahouse that they had both called home for so long. Turning to him, she smiled as he looked at her with concern, wiping away her tears that she had not even known were falling.

"Do you not like it, Christine? I could find us other temporary accommodations if you would wish, but-" She cut him off quickly by placing a gentle finger on his lips and shaking her head.

"Erik...it is beautiful. I cannot imagine a place that I would rather call home. It will be our home, won't it?" she murmured, briefly turning her gaze back to the house before returning to meet his eyes, which were now sparkling with excitement.

"Our home," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "Yes, my sweet Christine, this is _our_ home."

Leaning in, she whispered against his lips, before sealing her mouth fully to his, "I love it." The kiss was brief, despite Erik's pleading moan as Christine drew away from him, but she pulled back with a radiant smile. "Will you show me around our home, husband?"

He smiled and took her hand, leading her down the little pathway to the front door. "Whatever will please you, wife." Pulling out a key from inside his coat pocket, Christine gave a delighted little giggle at the fact that Erik had something as ordinary as a key to their home. No sliding mirrors, no secret passageways, no lake and gondola, simply a key.

He opened the door and swept his arm inside, letting her enter first. The entry way was flooded with light, it seemed like there were windows positively everywhere. She had time to explore the main floor before their guests arrived, her eyes glittering with joy as Erik guided her from room to room. Christine promised Meg a tour the next time that she was over; she wanted time to acquaint herself with the house before she showed it off to anyone else. Erik disappeared into the kitchen while Christine entertained their small party, reappearing with some cheese, crackers, fruit, and wine and announcing that dinner would be served in a short while. Christine was unsure as to how Erik had already stocked their kitchen, but her questioning glance went unanswered except for a gleam in his eye.

The night was spent pleasantly enough, but after a few hours of company, Christine began to feel the need to be alone with her husband. Erik was sitting beside her on the settee, Madame Giry and Meg sat on another one opposite them, and Nadir sat in a chair in the nearby corner. Erik had just wrapped his arm around Christine's shoulders, his hand resting on the back of her neck, underneath her curls. He was stroking the skin there softly, every so often wrapping his fingers around her curls and tugging playfully. It was driving her mad.

Nadir and Madame Giry exchanged a knowing glance when Christine shifted for the fourth time in a five minute span of time while chatting with Meg. The older woman stood up and immediately everyone followed suit. "We still have a performance tomorrow and Meg, Christine, and I need to be well rested for it. So I think it is time to take our leave."

Nodding, the Persian man quickly offered to take the Girys back to the operahouse, as his flat was near that location. Goodbyes were exchanged and Christine showed their guests to the door. Madame Giry and Nadir were already outside and making their way to the carriage when Meg embraced Christine one last time. "Tell Erik to try not to leave very many marks tonight, Christine. We will only have so much time to apply makeup tomorrow!" she exclaimed cheekily, pulling back from their hug.

Christine blushed and swatted at her friend as she went out the door, jogging slightly to catch up to the others. Closing the door, Christine felt Erik's presence behind her right before she felt his arms slip around her waist, pulling her back against him as much as the bustled dress would allow. He buried his face in her neck and she smiled when she realised that he had taken off the mask. He was now completely her Erik. "Would you like a tour of the upstairs now, Madame Durand?" he murmured against her ear and she shivered at his seductive tone. Nodding wordlessly, she turned and let Erik lead her up the stairs.

While the downstairs held the public domain: the kitchen, dining room, sitting room, and library-the upstairs was a completely private area. The first room Erik showed her was the music room, outfitted with all his instruments, a desk for when he composed, and a piano as the centrepiece of the room. She noticed that out of any of the rooms so far, this room had the least amount of windows and heavy black curtains adorning them. It felt like an extension of his home of the lake and that was just fine with her.

The next room was a guest room, which Erik told her Meg was welcome to utilize whenever she wished. It was elegantly decorated, as she knew it would be, and it suddenly struck her at just how long Erik must have been working on this house. This was not something that you just threw together at the last moment, he had to have been building this house and outfitting it from almost the moment that he revealed himself to her as a man. Her heart swelled with love for him and she turned to kiss him as they left the guest room.

Pulling back only when her lungs demanded it, she smiled at her husband's slightly dazed expression. She offered no explanation for her actions, instead only tugging on his hand in a silent plea to show her the rest of the house. The next room was empty and she turned to him questioningly.

He cleared his throat and looked past Christine, into the room. "I uh...was not certain what you would want to use this room for. I thought we could discuss it." His gaze had turned back to her and had rather unconsciously, fallen to her abdomen.

Of course, she noticed this and she smiled at him before taking his hand and gently kissing his fingertips. "I think, if we were so blessed, it would make a wonderful nursery, Erik. Just imagine...a little bassinet over there, a rocking chair in front of that window," she trailed off, taking her eyes from the room and focusing on her husband. His expression was an interesting combination of fear and longing that made her heart ache. "A child would be the best and most perfect celebration of our love, don't you think, my love?" She drew his hand to her flat stomach and then cupped both of his cheeks, drawing him close for a soft kiss.

"Oh Christine," he whimpered, lightly stroking her stomach still when they pulled away from the kiss. She gently brushed away the tears that were running down his cheeks and simply held him when he tugged her forward in an embrace. They stood like that, holding each other in the doorway of what would someday be their child's room for quite some time while they both struggled to control their emotions.

Finally, Erik withdrew from Christine's arms and smiled at her. "I believe there is still one room that you need to see." Smiling back, she eagerly nodded and took his proffered hand, as he led her to the last door in the hallway...the door to their bedroom.

She gasped as he pushed open the door, her eyes eagerly soaking in the room. It was decorated in sumptuous reds and dark purples, giving the room an almost royal feel. A large four poster bed took up most of the room with a settee and a small bookshelf in one corner and one large armoire and a chest of drawers in another. There was a glass door that led out onto a rather sizeable balcony, from what Christine could see. She assumed that the door along one of the walls lead to the bathroom, but did not actually venture to find out. Instead, she turned to Erik and immediately tugged his head down for a kiss.

Pulling back, Christine could feel Erik's hands starting to undo all the little buttons at her back. "I think that it is time to truly begin our wedding night, don't you agree, Christine?" he murmured against her lips. Christine could do little more than nod as Erik's lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck.


	24. Chapter 24

Notes: Goodness, it's been quite a while! Not completely sure if I'm totally happy with this chapter still, but I figured it was time to just put it out there. Thank you all so much for coming along on this little journey with me-I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have! I have some one-shots in the works, so keep an eye out for those!

Enjoy the last chapter of "In Any Other World"!

* * *

It had been nearly two months since Erik and Christine's wedding and their lives had settled into a sort of domestic bliss that Erik had only dared dream about. The company was performing _Faust _for the end of the season, much to Erik's delight, and Christine had auditioned for and received the role of Marguerite. Every day, Erik would take her in their carriage into the city for rehearsal and would somehow mysteriously retrieve her the moment rehearsals were over. She imagined that he often prowled the operahouse, ensuring that everything was still running smoothly, though she never asked.

Meg had been to visit them three or four times in the two months that they had lived in their home, taking great delight in helping Christine with the garden or going into town to buy little trinkets that they simply insisted belonged in the house. And just last week, they had hosted their very own dinner party. It contained the same guest list as their wedding reception, but it still sometimes baffled Erik that he, who had once been known as the Phantom of the Opera, could host something as mundane as a dinner party. But it pleased Christine to have their friends over for a meal and if it pleased his wife, it pleased him.

They had both noticed, with some amount of alarm, that Raoul had returned to the operahouse three weeks previous. But to their surprise, he had not sought to contact Christine once. It was not as if she would have had time to talk to him anyway; rehearsals took up most of her time and lately she had been feeling quite ill. If she was not onstage, she was likely to be hunched over a bucket in the wings. But she still found his behaviour slightly odd. He had been such an ardent suitor before and now to have him completely ignore her had her slightly ill at ease. But he did not appear to have anything planned and both Erik and Christine had all but forgotten his renewed presence in the operahouse.

After rehearsal one day, Christine had ventured up to the dormitories with Meg, to spend time with her friend in what was formerly their shared room. The petite blonde had seemed on edge the past two weeks or so and had promised to tell Christine what exactly was on her mind. Christine had some news of her own that Meg insisted she share first.

"Oh Christine!" she squealed, all but throwing herself into her friend's arms. "I can hardly believe it...well, I mean, I can, but...does Erik know yet?"

Christine blushed slightly and shook her head. "No, I only had it confirmed this morning. You're the only one who knows, so you must keep it a secret, Marguerite Giry! I'm lucky it's the end of the season." The blonde beamed and bobbed her head in agreement. "And now," Christine grasped her friend's hands eagerly, "you must tell me your news!"

Immediately biting her lip, the other girl suddenly looked nervous, her green eyes darting down to their entwined hands. "Well...Christine, you must promise not to be cross...do you remember all those times when I would joke with you about Raoul? About how I wanted him for my own?" Christine nodded and Meg sighed, but before she could continue, there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Meg, darling, are you in there? I didn't think that rehearsals would get out early today, I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you." Christine's eyes widened at the familiar voice on the other side of the door and Meg's face flushed an endearing shade of red.

"Is that Raoul?" Christine whispered.

Meg paused before answering, her eyes flitting from the door to Christine. "Perhaps?"

Giggling, Christine shooed her friend towards the door. "Well don't just make him stand out there!" Meg leapt gracefully from the bed and quickly opened the door, smiling shyly at the man on the other side. He stepped through the door and kissed Meg on the cheek before noticing that they were not alone. Straightening immediately, Raoul bowed slightly in Christine's direction. Chuckling, she got up from the bed and crossed the room to stand in front of her two dear friends.

"Christine, I...I wasn't expecting to see you here," he said, his speech awkward and stilted. "I wasn't sure if you would want to see me after...after what happened. That's why I've avoided you since my return."

Nodding in understanding, Christine's mouth opened to reply but Meg suddenly burst forth, as if she had been restraining herself while Raoul was speaking. "Christine, the Vicomte...Raoul and I are...seeing each other. He's come to take me to dinner." Worrying her bottom lip again, Meg pleaded silently with her friend for acceptance.

"Oh Meg!" Christine exclaimed, wrapping her friend in an embrace. "Why would you ever think I would be cross? You are my dearest friend; I want nothing more in the world than to see you happy! And Raoul...he is my friend as well." Meg's eyes lit up at Christine's declaration. Nodding to her dear friend, Christine smiled and briefly took note of the clock situated in the corner of the room. "I do not wish to keep you two from your dinner reservations!"

Grinning, the little blonde ballerina nodded and winked at her friend. "Besides, you have your husband to attend to. Oh Christine, you must tell me all about his reaction when you tell him the news!"

"Meg!" the brunette chastised, daring to glance at Raoul, who was regarded both girls with curiosity. "Not a word! Have a wonderful dinner, you two!" Turning to the man beside her, Christine smiled softly. "I do hope that we can be friends, Raoul."

He nodded and smiled, looking over at Meg. "I think that Meg would insist upon it. And we would both do whatever it takes to see Miss Giry happy." His tone was teasing and Meg, much to Christine's surprise, blushed a bit in reaction. "Have a nice night, Christine." He nodded to her and Christine mirrored him.

Hurrying towards the entrance of the operahouse, Christine smiled as she saw Erik standing there waiting for her. All but flinging herself into his arms, she could tell that she startled him with her sudden affection. Chuckling, he pulled back from her. "Have you been waiting long, my darling?" she asked, kissing his cheek playfully.

"Not at all, Christine." Regarding her with mild suspicion, his visible eyebrow raised and Christine simply beamed at him. "I take it rehearsal went well?"

"Oh yes, of course," she said, taking his proffered arm and moulding herself to his side. "I found out that Meg has a new beau-and you will never believe who it is!" Erik simply looked over to her briefly and gave a slight shrug. "Raoul! All this time he's been skulking about the operahouse, it was to hide his relationship with Meg from me!"

Erik let out a sharp bark of laughter and took Christine a bit by surprise with it. They had reached their carriage and Christine, without asking, hopped up onto the driver's perch before looking innocently to her husband. He sighed in exasperation, but knew that when she had her mind set to something; it was useless to try and fight her on it. He climbed up to sit beside her and started them on their way home as Christine continued to share her gossip.

"I wish Little Giry all the luck in the world. But I will draw the line at having that boy over for dinner. Meg is welcome any time, you know that, but he is not. Although his pursuits lie elsewhere, I still do not trust him...or particularly like him," Erik muttered. Christine simply smiled and leaned against his shoulder.

"Time will mellow you, I'm sure," she cooed, patting his arm lightly. He raised his visible eyebrow doubtfully, but said nothing in response. They shared small talk until their reached their little home and Erik helped Christine down from the perch. Smiling brightly, Christine seemed to be vibrating with excitement as they walked into the house. Erik was hanging up his cloak and fedora when he looked at Christine and smirked.

"And what other news do you have to share with me? I'm surprised that you didn't burst on our way here, Christine," he commented dryly, but with a distinct amount of affection.

"Oh Erik!" she squealed, wringing her hands nervously. "I know...I know that we have not talked much about it, but we did make the decision to stop taking measures to prevent it...and I didn't expect it to happen so soon, but-oh I do hope that you'll be happy and-"

"Christine," Erik cut her off smoothly, coming to stand before her and gently cupping her cheek. "Are you trying to tell me...that you are with child?"

Her eyes sparkled and she grasped his hand, nodding eagerly. "Yes, Erik. Yes, I had it confirmed this morning with the doctor who makes the rounds at the operahouse. We're going to have a baby!"

For a brief moment, Erik's eyes shone like the heavens and Christine's heart swelled. But all too soon, a dark cloud settled over his features and he moved away from her. "What if I am not fit to be a parent, Christine? What if...what if the child looks like me?"

Shaking her head, Christine moved towards him, refusing to let him escape into his dark world of doubt. "You have given me more love than I ever thought possible, Erik. That's all a child really ever needs-love." He winced and she knew that he was recalling the fact that that one element was distinctly absent in his own childhood. She wound her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "And it does not matter what our babe will look like, Erik, because it will be the most doted on and adored child in all of Paris. Possibly all of France!" Looking up at him, her hands came up to cup his cheeks and force him to look at her. "This child was created out of our love, Erik. And our love is perfect."

Her fingers that lay upon the coolness of his mask slowly crept to his jaw and fit themselves against the edge of the mask. Seeking his eyes for a moment, she saw him give a brief nod and she gently pried off the mask, setting it on a table in their hallway. She was still leery of removing his mask, but they were both becoming accustomed to it. Her hands splayed over both cheeks, ruined and perfect, and she smiled at him. "You are perfect, my sweet husband."

A choked sob escaped his throat as he gathered her to him, tightly embracing her and pulling her flush against him. He whispered her name into her hair as she carefully removed his wig and stroked her fingers through his natural hair. "This child is a blessing, Erik. And anyone who would view it as anything but has no reason to be in our lives," she whispered, her voice cracking as she felt Erik's hot tears splash against the skin of her neck. She felt him nod against her and smiled.

Countless moments passed as they enjoyed their embrace, as if they had been kept apart days and not merely hours. Finally, Erik moved away and placed his hand gently on Christine's still flat stomach. "A child...such a miracle." Christine smiled and nodded, placing her hand over Erik's.

"I think that once the season has concluded you should spend a day in town with me to pick out things for the nursery," Christine proposed as they moved into the kitchen and began fixing their meal for the night.

Erik chuckled and looked over at her. "I may not be an expert on babies, Christine, but I do believe that we have about seven months before we will have to be prepared." He sighed as Christine pouted at him. "But if that is what you wish, then I suppose that we could spend a few hours in town pricing things for the nursery." Christine smiled giddily and returned her focus to their meal. Erik regarded her for a moment, imagining her figure expanding to accommodate their babe, the glow that was already present but would only grow over the coming months. With a soft smile, he returned to his own preparations.

* * *

Gustave Reza Durand was born about two weeks late, which had his father tearing at his already scarce hair. Christine, smiling serenely from her bed, would simply tell her husband that their little Angel was not quite ready to leave Heaven and would be there as soon as he could. Her charming anecdote did nothing to allay his fears and he consulted every medical text in his vast library to find a reason for his little one's delayed arrival.

But exactly two weeks and nine months after their wedding, their son entered the world, much to their little family's delight. The Girys had been on hand to sooth Christine and assist the midwife and Nadir had been there to keep Erik from breaking down the door when he heard Christine cry out during the delivery. Christine was lucky and had a rather short labour, only lasting six hours, which was six hours too long for Erik.

Little Gustave, named for Christine's father and Nadir's boy, was healthy, which was all that mattered to Christine; and he was normal, which was all that mattered to Erik. Ten little fingers, ten little toes, and an unblemished face marked him as the most perfect child that anyone in the Durand household had ever laid eyes on. At least as far as his parents were concerned.

One night, about six months after her son's birth, Christine awoke alone in her and Erik's bed. Throwing on a dressing gown, she padded down the hallway to Gustave's room and smiled softly as she saw her husband, sitting in a rocking chair, humming softly to and watching over their son. He glanced up to Christine and smiled warmly, beckoning her with a slight wave of his hand. She tip-toed over to her husband and situated herself comfortably in his lap, gently kissing his cheek. "I was just checking on him. He seemed fussy," Erik whispered, as if he had to excuse his presence at the side of his child.

Christine simply smiled and nodded. Erik turned back to Gustave, continuing to hum as Christine played with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You are such a good papa," she whispered sleepily, his humming having the same calming effect on her as it did on their son. Erik didn't reply, but simply smiled at her and continued to hum.

She drifted off into a state of semi-consciousness as Erik finished his tune and he carefully lifted her up, carrying her out of their son's room and back into their own. He laid her down on the bed carefully and slid in beside her, pulling the covers up over the both of them. "I love you, my sweet wife," he whispered to her as he pulled her close, a note of awe noticeable in his voice even to her tired brain.

"I love you, husband," she replied simply, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Which it was-and that never failed to amaze Erik. "Now to go sleep," she moaned softly, curling fully into him and resting her head on his chest.

And he did as his wife asked, with a peaceful smile on his face.


End file.
